


Whispers of Fire

by Vathara



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Djinni & Genies, Family, Gen, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 90,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vathara/pseuds/Vathara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A landslide means Alibaba has to take an alternate route to Balbadd. Just when he's figured out there's something very weird about his knife....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caravan

**Author's Note:**

> AU from canon - what if Alibaba missed meeting Cassim when he first hit Balbadd? There’s one other AU element, based on something we know is possible in canon; bunnies wanted to play with it.... Magi, not mine.

Walking through the dust with the desert caravan a day after he’d left Qishan, Alibaba seriously wondered if he’d made a mistake.

_We were swept to another world. If Aladdin got back - I hope he got back! - Morgiana landed outside the city. Aladdin could be anywhere_.

He couldn’t wait around for the rest of his life in Qishan. He’d told Aladdin he had something he needed to do in Balbadd. If the young magi had ended up anywhere on earth, that was where he’d look.

_A magi. Someone who chooses kings for the Djinn. If that’s true - he might not look for me at all_.

No. That was three years of scraping by as a desert rat talking. Aladdin had promised to see the world with him. And his smile had been so bright.

_I want to see him again_.

And it had nothing to do with a magi’s power. Though that had been incredible, heart-stopping as a storm rolling off the sea, and he wouldn’t mind seeing Aladdin using it again, because the boy had looked so _right_ wrapped in fluttering light.

No. Because Aladdin had believed in him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that.

And he really couldn’t have stayed in Qishan. The slaves he’d freed - some of them had plans to make their own lives, they’d be okay. But a scary number of them thought they wanted to stick with “Lord Alibaba”, and the last thing he needed was to be put in charge of _anything_. Nope. Time to get while the getting was good. And Master Budel had recommended Parfaz, the leader of this caravan, so he stood half a chance of getting through this trip with his fortune and life intact.

_I wish Morgiana had come with me_.

Sure, she was still scary, but she was strong. And - they weren’t exactly friends, but they’d survived Amon together. He trusted her.

But Morgiana was bent on going back to the Dark Continent; back to her homeland, Katarg. It’d been Goltas’ dying wish. Alibaba knew all about those. He’d run from one for three years.

_I’ll pay back the treasury. Everything Cassim stole. And then - I’ll still have capital left. I can catch a ship to Sindria right in the harbor. Aladdin knows that’s where I’m going to go after Balbadd_.

But Balbadd first. Even if it was a longer walk than getting to the coast and taking a ship to Sindria. So he could finally stop dreaming of fire.

_Walking_. Heh. Aladdin wasn’t even here, and he was still changing Alibaba’s life. He could have joined this caravan as a driver, instead of a traveler. But... he didn’t want to be the person he’d been before Aladdin had smiled at him. Never again.

_Besides. Walking’s good for you. And it’s not that hot_.

* * *

Noon hammered the moving caravan dry as old bones. Oh, they had plenty of water for camels and people, enough that a mouthful when anyone got parched was no big deal. The next oasis was less than a week away. Yet the sun seemed to pound any desire to talk out of the rest of Alibaba’s fellow travelers, making the toughest driver shade his face with a wrapped veil.

_I don’t get it_ , Alibaba thought, helping one of the most cantankerous old ladies in the caravan up into a wagon’s shade whether she liked it or not. _It’s not_ that _hot_.

Then again, he’d been up against fires hotter than even the desert sun. Maybe he’d feel hot again in a few days, as Amon receded into an awesome, terrifying memory.

Until then, he’d take advantage of it, and just keep walking.

* * *

“Maybe it’s a sign,” one of the drivers muttered.

His burlier partner clapped him on the back. “Oh, a _sign_ , sure. A sign the dung you gathered for the fire wasn’t dry yet, that’s all.”

“How can it not be dry in this heat?”

Listening to the bickering, Alibaba edged a bit back from the night fire, and watched flickering flames crackle back to full strength.

_Coincidence. A really weird coincidence, but - it just has to be_.

All the same, he took his share of the thick stew and retreated from the main fire as fast as decently possible. Because while he might know the way fires and lamps had flickered near him the past three nights was a purely natural coincidence and nothing to do with bad luck, evil omens, or annoyed desert spirits, a lot of his fellow travelers didn’t have so much faith in the universe. He was already collecting odd looks for his lack of sunburn.

Which didn’t make any _sense_. Even if he hadn’t felt hot he’d still wrapped around a veil to keep out travel dust. Why should he have burned any more than the rest of them?

_Darn blond hair. Are all people from Reim supposed to burn?_

He couldn’t even say he wasn’t from Reim. His mother had been a palace maid in Balbadd before she’d been a prostitute - but that still meant her family could have come from anywhere. Balbadd thrived on trade, trade meant people moving, and he’d be more surprised if some of his ancestors _weren’t_ from Reim.

On either side. Abhmad and Sabhmad might not want to hear it, but if his history tutors had been telling the truth, Balbadd’s royalty had a hushed-up habit of straying after people not their lawfully wedded wives or husbands, and then adopting the results. Or at least seeing they got some kind of education. Go back enough generations, and most of the palace servants-

_Don’t think about it_.

Alibaba faded back into the shadows behind a wagon on the edge of camp, leaning against a handy rock with a sigh of relief. He’d grabbed his portion of stew fast, meaning he hadn’t gotten more than half a bowl, but he had a few apples to go with it. Besides, he wasn’t all that hungry. He might not feel the heat like the rest of the caravan, but it seemed to suck a lot of the appetite out of him anyway.

It was weird, though. Usually if it was hot enough to kill hunger, it left people tired to the bone. Like the rest of the caravan was tired.

_I’m not tired_.

Not as tired as he should be. More like he’d just spent the morning walking, instead of all the blazing day and well after sunset.

_The stars are beautiful out here_.

The Straw Thief’s Way spread a brilliant belt of stars leading south, all the way to Balbadd and beyond. With a map of wells and the stars, he could always find the way home.

Of course, if he mentioned the Straw Thief’s Way to the people he was traveling with, at least half of them would look at him as if he’d lost his mind. To the northern Oasis Cities, that was the Dragon’s Tail, flung into the stars by their ancient hero who’d defeated the Great Dragon.

_In Imuchakk, it’s the Birds’ Path_ , Alibaba thought, sweeping his gaze across that arc of starry blue. _Heliohapt, the Pool of Cow’s Milk. Reim, the Rock’s Nursing. In Partevia, the Silver River_.

His tutors had made sure he knew them all. Because you couldn’t trade with people if you didn’t know them - and if what you knew still went wrong, a merchant _had_ to be able to get back. For his family, and his people.

_I wonder what it is in Sindria?_

_...I wonder what it is in Katarg. I never got the chance to ask Morgiana._

_If I see her again, I will_.

Well, that was the stew. And he was still restless, energy prickling through his veins to warm him against the desert night. How was he going to sleep?

_Well, I could_ -

For a moment he froze up in one taut _no_. Swordplay was part of the life he’d left behind and forgotten. Sure, bandits were bad enough that anyone who carried a blade had better know how to use it, but-

_I know Balbadd’s royal sword style. Jamil might not be the only guy out there who can see it_.

Meaning if anyone caught him practicing - well, explaining would be tricky.

_But I want to find Aladdin_.

And if Amon was right, and Aladdin was a Magi who chose kings - what were the odds that he’d be up to his flying carpet in trouble?

_Pretty good_ , Alibaba thought wryly. Stretched, scrubbed out his bowl with a little sand, and went to find one of the night guards. Explaining away sword practice would be tricky. Explaining why he’d sneaked away from a caravan at night? Even odds they’d stab him to death for working with bandits first, and ask questions later.

One cranky guard with a scimitar later, Alibaba was walking out beyond the firelight, behind and between a few of the rubble piles. If he got into trouble out here, he’d have no one to rely on but himself....

_I made it past slimes and fire and deathtraps. I think I can handle any bandits long enough to scream_.

Far enough away. He breathed out, one long sigh of all the worries and fears of the day.

_Clear your mind, young prince_ , Barkakk’s voice rumbled in memory. _And begin_....

* * *

It wasn’t anything so clear in intent as an incantation. Just a rough brush of a waking mind over rusty self-discipline, fumbling to attune itself to the soul of steel.

_Hmm_.

Amon rested within his new Vessel, reluctantly satisfied with the magoi he’d gained this day. His King might not have nearly the innate power he would have preferred, but the blazing desert heat made up for it. A little.

_Magi, why did you choose this brat?_

Though at least the youngster was trying to bring his knife into the flow of his energies. It was a start.

_Hmph. Just trying won’t keep him alive against the Abnormalities of the world_.

Still. He was young. As Aladdin was young, in body if not in soul. Perhaps the magi had wanted not a King in the full flush of his power, but a boy who could grow with him?

_It... could be an advantage, if used properly_ , Amon thought grudgingly. _Aladdin has a magi’s power, but not Solomon’s wisdom to use it. Yet. And Alibaba was wary enough to survive my dungeon. Aladdin could use that caution._

He still would have preferred a proper King. But whoever had closed the Road between the worlds had cast young Aladdin into who knew what danger. And if what Amon read of Alibaba Saluja’s dreams and rukh were accurate, while the soul who now held his contract might be weak in magoi, he cared about Aladdin as fiercely as any mortal friend could.

_It will be difficult, reaching through his dreams enough to prod him into searching for our young magi_. Amon sighed. _And it will take time_.

Well. Even the longest journey had to start with the first step. It was time to begin instructing his King.

* * *

“Sacred servant of austerity and decorum....”

Alibaba blinked his eyes open, and clamped his lips shut, eyeing the knife he’d raised in one last salute to the foe. The back of his neck was prickling, the night seemed eerily quiet, and for a moment steel hadn’t looked right at all. _What the heck was that?_

No answer. Thankfully. He really didn’t feel like dealing with another person right now. Not when he’d just remembered an ancient frown, as a long-nailed being out of legends peered down at him.

_The Djinn of austerity and decorum_. Alibaba frowned, lowering steel. _I wonder what that means. Fire, sure, we could see that all over the dungeon. Austerity and decorum?_ He pictured ant-things, slimes, the pair of them running like scared rabbits from rolling boulders.

... _Maybe you could get a pass on austerity, Amon. Decorum, not so much_.

Odd. For a moment he thought he’d almost felt something bristle in irritation.

_Must be more tired than I thought. I should head back to the caravan_ -

The light of the stars glimmered oddly on steel.

_That can’t be right_. Alibaba frowned. _I cleaned off my blade, I know I did_.

And the touch of his fingers found nothing but clean steel, even if there seemed to be a patterned darkness under the starlight.

_I need better light_. Alibaba glanced around, just in case the desert night had erupted in enemies while he was distracted. _And then I need some sleep_.

* * *

Sleep... might not be coming so easily, tonight.

_This isn’t possible_.

The eight-pointed star-in-circle design on his knife was unmistakable in the sputtering torchlight. And oddly unreal. Alibaba could see it, dark as if someone had incised the Seal into the metal itself. Which would have been _horrible_ , you didn’t carve into a blade meant to be used, ever, every bit of engraving weakened the steel-

Yet to his fingers, steel was smooth and unmarked. As if the dark angles and curves were somehow _inside_ the steel, not on it.

_It doesn’t have the runes Aladdin’s flute had_ , Alibaba thought, squinting at the curve of the circle to be sure. _But - it’s the same. How? It wasn’t like this before we_ -

Oh no. Oh, _no_.

_The stories say, people who conquer dungeons find treasure, and Magic Tools... and even sometimes a Djinn’s Metal Vessel_.

But he’d seen Amon, tied to... well, it’d kind of looked like an oil-pot, maybe? And he hadn’t touched it. _At all_.

After all, he might have told Aladdin he had a Sinbad-dream, but there was no way _he_ was anything like Sinbad. He’d come after the dungeon to get the treasure. To pay back Balbadd’s treasury. To prove he _wasn’t_ the desert rat, the unclean worm, everyone in noble’s slippers said he was.

_That’s all I wanted. Enough gold to wipe the slate clean... and just the proof I could_ do _it_.

Not that he would have minded, oh, an ever-flowing vessel of wine or something. Outfit a tavern, get some busty serving girls and a good cook - it’d be a living right there. A _small_ magic. A useful one. Something that wasn’t-

Well. Scary. Even scarier in the flickering torchlight near the camp boundary....

_Amon is a fire Djinn_.

It was crazy. Utterly, totally crazy.

Glancing about to make sure no one was watching, Alibaba lifted his knife to the torch.

Dark lines glowed dim gold. There was the oddest, faintest sense of _pulling_ -

Flames blew out, like a gust of storm wind.

“Hey! Who did-?”

Alibaba dove under a wagon full of snoring travelers, heart beating like a rabbit’s. Sheathed his knife with trembling hands, determined not to shiver against a wheel and draw attention.

_They were right. All those suspicious glances, all the whispers about unquiet spirits - they were_ right.

_It’s me. It’s what I brought with me_.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

* * *

Tapping impatient fingernails together, Amon waited for his King to fall asleep. And waited. And waited.

_What in the worlds is keeping the boy?_

A whisper through the rukh surrounding him, and he was finally able to reach outward. Carefully, _gently_ , no matter how much he might want to scowl and throw black visions of corrupted magic at his King to teach him to _listen_. A Djinn knew the threats that lurked for Kings and Magi far, far better than any untried youth.

_“They’ll kill me. They’ll kill me if they figure it out. Tie me up, toss me out into the desert, make sure I don’t even have a flask of water on me....”_

Words wreathed in black-fluttering images. Dying fires, pointing fingers; empty, hateful eyes, as hard hands grabbed and _pulled,_ tearing fragile flesh apart.

A nightmare? Why would his King be having a nightmare of ordinary humans turning on one who commanded all the power of a Djinn-

_Dying fires_.

Curse it. If he was ever to regain his full power, he needed more magoi than he could easily draw from his King. Drinking in magoi from his element was only natural; as Paimon would draw sustenance from the winds, Vinea from the sea, or Baal from striking lightning.

_No one sees the wind. Fire... is a bit more visible_.

Hmm. There were limits on how much any Djinn could _avoid_ drawing in power, especially so soon after transferring to a new Vessel. Hopefully now that the boy had recognized the problem, Alibaba would be more careful not to draw attention to himself. At least until he’d mastered more of the power at his command.

_And he must master it soon. We_ will _find Aladdin_.

Will set, Amon prepared to draw on memories of swords and fire.

* * *

_Worst. Night. Ever_ , Alibaba thought blearily, rousing with the rest of the caravan in the chill dark before dawn. People were shivering now; they’d be baking soon enough. _Feels like all the dungeon monsters decided to run through my head_.

Which meant it actually _wasn’t_ the worst night ever, because he’d rather face Amon’s dungeon a dozen times than that one horrible evening in Balbadd-

_Time to get moving_ , Alibaba told himself firmly. _With the rest of the caravan. Who I’ve got to convince not to kill me. Without letting on that maybe there’s a reason they really_ should _look at me cross-eyed. Which is going to be hard to do if Amon is sucking up the heat before it hits me, people notice a cool breeze in the middle of the desert-_

_Waaaait a minute_.

It was preposterous. It was crazy. It’d make the rest of the caravan think _he_ was crazy.

On the other hand, it was the kind of crazy everybody would be glad to have working for them. Especially the lady’s harassed son and her fuming daughter-in-law, who’d had to put up with being criticized for everything from how she spiced the stew to how she folded a veil.

Picking up his bedroll, Alibaba headed for the most cantankerous old lady in the caravan. “Good morning, Grandmother.”

“Hmph!” A stick jabbed roughly his way. “And what’s good about it?”

“I was listening to your tales of this route yesterday.” Alibaba gave her a respectful bow. “It’s been years since I traveled this way; I’d be honored if you’d tell me more.”

Repacking part of his wagon yet again, the old lady’s son stared. Serving overnight bread and some corned meat to her small brood, his wife blinked, looked at him askance, and shook her head.

_Yep. They think I’m crazy_.

With his best merchant manners, Alibaba swept her another bow. “A trade, Grandmother? Your tales, for a bit of help on the road?”

“Well!” Gray hair seemed to bristle under her hood, as she straightened an old back. “At least _some_ youngsters know what they don’t know.”

Alibaba held out an arm for her to grab, and grinned.

* * *

There was a fluttering bounce to the boy’s rukh this night. As if he’d won a great battle, or outwitted a horde of monsters out to devour camels and caravan alike.

_Yet I felt no call_. Amon frowned within steel, reaching out to brush the tumbling images of a dreaming mind sorting through the day. _What have you been up to?_

_“The road’s clear, so long as you don’t bring wine this way. Well, except for the bandits. And the tavern-keepers in the next two towns; someone said they were bandits once, and if you see those scars, you can’t think anything else-!”_

_“The rate on silver? Which coin? Partevia’s silvers are still a bit dull; Reim’s sound, but no more than that._ Sindria _silver - ah, now that’s always true. So long as you’re sure it’s theirs, and not some of the counterfeits from the coast towns....”_

_“Balbadd coin? That’s not so easy to find these days. Tch, you’re too young to remember King Rashid, but his sons must have some strange ideas. Must come with trading with that odd Empire out of the East....”_

A multitude of voices. Mostly that grouchy Grandmother Simi young Alibaba had dealt with the other day, but there were no few others. The grandmother’s family, three or four of the drivers, even a few of the hired guards.

_He was in fear of his life yesterday_. Amon scowled. _What could have changed?_

_“Hah!”_ Simi again, cackling. _“You give as good as you get, boy! Arguing with you is like a cool breeze off the sea!”_

Amon blinked, and touched that memory again, sinking into it. Sand against shod feet, shifting to red pebbles and back as they walked. A thin veil wrapped over the face to blend in with the rest as the sun beat down. An old hand on a young arm; gripping a bit too hard at times, but cool as if they were already in oasis shade, and eager for a good word-battle with a young man who’d smile and top her _“how outrageous!”_ with yet another tale he’d heard of even more barbarous foreign lands.

Amon groaned. “Lord Ugo, if I didn’t know you were to blame for this, I’d suspect Sheba’s sense of humor.”

With good reason. The boy had ignored every lesson Amon had tried to impart in fire magic and noble bearing, and instead acted as - as a _walking snowpack_ to an overheated old gossip. The indignity. The lack of pride. The embarrassment-

_And yet, no nightmares_ , Amon sourly admitted. _The boy must think he’s made himself safe_.

The most annoying part of this was, he probably had. A mortal of her advanced years had a hard enough time dealing with heat and cold. The pride of walking on her own two feet would keep her from noticing the desert wasn’t as hot as it should be. The rest of the caravan would steer clear of a grumpy old woman who wanted to talk someone’s ear off, and be thanking Solomon that one fool boy was insane enough to throw himself into the lioness’ jaws. And....

Amon frowned harder, and carefully brushed through rukh still agitated by the day’s talk. There had been something else. Something important, that had nothing to do with magic or fighting at all. Something measured in coin weights. Alloys. Whose currency was trusted, what routes it came by-

Alibaba’s mind spread a map of the world, shimmering with silks and treasure. Yet it wasn’t just the hunger for riches Amon had thought.

_King Rashid... my father... is dead_ , whispered through Alibaba’s dreams. _There should be new coins issued, with the seal of the 23rd King of Balbadd._

_Why aren’t people seeing new Balbadd coins?_

To Amon’s King, it was a warning; dire as the first crumbling sand that unveiled a desert hyacinth.

Amon _hmph_ ed. This wasn’t magic, or ruling a country. But if his King thought this was a danger, he would be a foolish Djinn to ignore it.

_Why_ , Amon wondered, _is a missing coin so dangerous?_

* * *

_Oasis in one piece, done_ , Alibaba thought happily, settling his bedroll a bit easier on his shoulders as the caravan trundled past the frowning city guards. _Whew_.

For a day or so there he hadn’t been sure it would work. Other travelers in the caravan still looked at him askance; though now it was from doubts about his sanity, not about whether or not he’d drawn otherworldly attention. And his nightmares just kept coming, alternating between fighting an endless variety of monsters with fire and steel, and being put on the spot by his old palace tutors to explain every last detail of how trade let Balbadd survive between larger empires, what could go wrong with it, and why little details like new-reign coins mattered.

Of the two, he preferred the monsters. Trying to remember all the ins and outs of exchange rates, detecting false coins, and how prices and lives went crazy when a kingdom made their coins worth less - it was exhausting.

_Better remember it all, though. Before I hit whatever’s wrong in Balbadd._ Alibaba sighed, and dodged the local urchins’ attempts to toss glittery beaded necklaces over his head with a grin. Eager little brats. He’d have to find something to buy off them later. They could use a good meal, but there was no _way_ his pride as a slum kid would let him fall for that one-

“What do you mean, the next pass is closed?” Parfaz thundered.

_Uh-oh_.

* * *

“Landslide.” Alibaba grimaced, sharing yet another breakfast with Grandmother Simi’s family. Her very much extended family; apparently Grandmother had been called for because one of her daughters in this town was having a difficult confinement, and the family needed both her calm hands and extra help in the dyeworks.

“Could take a month to clear it. Longer, if the local bandits keep harassing folks,” her son Lan agreed. “That’s no problem for us, here’s where we stay. But you....”

“I’m going to Balbadd,” Alibaba nodded. “I guess I’ll have to cut down to the coast.” Which would cost him time going overland, but he’d cut total time by a week or more on shipboard. If all went well, it’d take a few days less to get there.

“Expensive trip,” Grandmother Simi _hmph_ ed.

“Not as expensive as staying in town a month with caravans stacking up and everyone scrambling for paid work,” Alibaba reflected. “Can’t anyone get a messenger pigeon through?”

Lan swallowed sour wine. “The local bandit chief flies eagles.”

Ouch. That settled that.

Only not quite. “You know,” Alibaba reflected, “it’s not your problem _yet_. But it will be. You need to trade north and south of here for your cloth to get the best price. If it can only move one way - cuts your market in half. Other merchants will catch on pretty quick, drop their offers, unless....”

Erk. By some trick of timing his words had fallen into a lull of silence, and now what felt like a couple dozen skeptical eyes were staring at him.

“Thank you for the meal,” Alibaba said awkwardly, rising to bow. “I think I need some morning air to clear my head.”

“Odd young man,” Lan’s wife muttered, as he made his escape up the ladder to the roof.

“Oh, he’s not all bad,” Grandmother Simi grumbled. “He’s right, you know. We will have a problem. So put your heads together and do something about it!”

The heat of the day wasn’t yet radiating off the rooftop, but already the laundry hung up on racks was beginning to steam. Alibaba took a breath of the moister air, and wondered if the heat would finally start getting to him in town.

_What if it doesn’t?_

Well, he’d worked out how close he could get to flames without a flicker. He’d just have to be careful.

_I’m going to have to be more than careful_. Alibaba leaned on the dusty brick wall around the roof, looking over the city. _If I’m going to go on board a ship, I’ll have to get most of the gold out of my clothes and hidden in something else. There’s no way I’m going down with it if the ship wrecks. I’m going to be in enough trouble just as a lone passenger with no... cargo_....

Well, why _not_ have a cargo? Grandmother Simi’s dyeworks couldn’t be the only shop who needed trade to get moving; south if they could, but if they could even get it to the coast they’d pick up more profit. He had cash and more to spare; he’d been careful to exchange some treasure for a fair amount of silver for traveling, and one or two worn gold coins in the right place wouldn’t draw too many eyes. He’d always dreamed of being a merchant. Why not start here, instead of Sindria, where he could afford to make a few mistakes?

_Pick out enough for, oh, one camel-load or so. Things that - well, maybe they’re not_ expensive, _they’re just different. Show up with those at the docks, I look like an overeager young merchant trying my luck in Balbadd, instead of a suspicious kid who shouldn’t be able to afford a ship at all_.

That... might just work. Maybe.

_So what can I find here that might be worth trying to trade?_

Looking out over alleys of goldsmiths and dyers and who knew what, Alibaba blew out a laughing breath, and rubbed his hands together.

This was going to be _fun_.

* * *

_The picture jasper isn’t light, but I haven’t seen that intense a blue next to reds anywhere else_ , Alibaba thought, walking through some of the narrower alleys near the marketplace. _Could be worth bringing a box-load just to see how the jewelers react. The shisha cloth with those little mirrors... again, not that light. And not cheap. But it’s_ different. _Worth a shot. So_. He scratched the back of his head, wondering when the little scuffling noises along the roofs and behind piles of rubble would make their move. _Need at least one more item to make a good show. And I think I’ve just about got a line on where to get it_.

Yep, there was a little scritch of movement, a shadow just about to-

“Hi there,” Alibaba smiled.

The little urchin holding the knife looked totally nonplussed.

“You’re holding that wrong, you know,” Alibaba went on. “The way you’re gripping it, if you try to cut me, you’ll cut up your fingers, too. And that makes robbing people a lot harder. If you live through the fever from getting all this dirt in your fingers.” He nodded toward the nearest roof. “And what’s going to happen to the little ones following you if you’re out of your head with a fever for days, huh? Won’t be good, especially with that crowd of toughs two streets south just itching to take more turf.” He shrugged. “Why start up a mess like that, when we could make a deal instead?”

That had an interested rustling around him. But the dark-eyed leader wasn’t convinced. “Nobody makes a _deal_ with us.”

“That’ll make things tricky, for you and your gang,” Alibaba said plainly. “Did you hear about the pass being closed? Maybe it’ll be clear in a month. Maybe it _won’t_. Until it is, a lot of caravan guards are going to be stacking up here. I’m a driver; I know those guys. On the road they’re sober, they’re mostly okay. In town they get drunk. And when they get drunk, they get _mean_. And there’ll be a lot of them.” He gave the kid - maybe ten, maybe just a hungry twelve - an obvious measuring look. “Life around here is going to get a lot harder. But if you had a deal with people who wanted to trade with you....”

Louder whispers. Just a trace of uncertainty in the leader’s eyes. “Trade? We’re not _merchants_. We don’t have anything to trade.”

“You do right now,” Alibaba shrugged. “I’ve got a business proposal. You back down, I back down. You tell me where there’s a place to eat that doesn’t try to poison travelers, and maybe answer a few questions, and all of us get a bite to eat.”

Oh yeah. He definitely had the attention of all the others. He could catch glimpses of them peeking out of the shadows.

The knife lowered, just a little. “There might be a lot of us.”

“Even better.” Alibaba grinned. “I might have a lot of questions.”

_I think they’re going to think I’m nuts_. Alibaba watched the knife lower, and let himself breathe again. _Guess I’m going to have to get used to that_.

The kebabs turned out to be pretty good, though.

_Might check into what spices they use. Wouldn’t mind cooking with a few on the road_ , Alibaba thought, gnawing on the last bits of his own as he watched yet another wary-eyed waif slip out of the alleys for a bite. The stall owner was watching them, and frowning a little, but he hadn’t done anything. Which implied that Boutros’ gang knew better than to harass someone willing to sell them decent food rather than half-rotted meat. They might pinch a stick when the guy’s back was turned, but nothing worse.

Boutros was turning his own cleaned stick in his hands, as if he wanted to stab somebody but couldn’t figure out who. “Why.”

“When I was your age, I was hungry too,” Alibaba said bluntly. “I got lucky, I worked hard, I got a job I turned out to be good at. Now I’ve got a little money to try trading on my own. And your gang has something I think there might be a market for. Might,” he stressed. “I’d be taking a risk on this. But if it worked out, and it starts trading on the coast - you’ve got something a lot less risky than robbing.”

Dark eyes squinted at him, old and skeptical beyond their years. “Don’t tell me you think you’ll sell _flower garlands_.”

“Do I look like I was born yesterday? They’d wither before I ever got on the road,” Alibaba _hmph_ ed. “I’m talking about the beads in with the flowers. The shiny blue ones.”

Boutros drew back a little, like he was finally taking the mad blond stranger seriously. “Ayse.”

One of the older girls ghosted near, stick already licked clean. Reached under her cloak, and pulled out a garland that must have been left from yesterday, given how it was wilted.

Alibaba accepted it, pushing aside limp white petals to reveal that glimmering flash of blue-green. Around the size of a noble’s fingernail, tapering from thick base to rounded-thin in just about that shape. He’d seen beetle wings a little like this before, even seen them pierced and used as beads. But these were as brilliant as a peacock’s shimmering tail, and someone had taken the extra step of carefully gluing them onto shaped wood.

“You should call them Desert Tears, or something,” Alibaba reflected. “Make them romantic. Half the work of trade is telling a good story.” He glanced at Boutros. “I think I could sell these. They’re light, they’re different, and people down by the coast will want to put them next to a lot more things than flowers. So... who makes these, and how do we make sure your gang gets a cut?”

* * *

_Long, long day_.

A full new pack over his shoulders, Alibaba kept his head up as he retraced his steps back to the dyeworks. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but there were more problems than Boutros’ gang on the streets. The best way not to get attacked was to look like you weren’t prey-

_Wow. That is... a lot of people around the gate_.

A relatively friendly crowd, at least; some he knew from the caravan, some he didn’t. “Master Parfaz,” Alibaba asked politely, once he got close enough. “What’s going on?”

The caravan master looked him up and down, and shook his head. “The Simi dyeworks made me an offer,” he said dryly. “They weren’t the only ones. Seems some people would rather take the chance of sending goods to the harbor than wait for the pass to be cleared.”

“That’s... good?” Alibaba said, surprised. _I guess Grandmother Simi decided it was a good idea after all_.

“The beasts need a day to rest,” Parfaz said bluntly. “After that, we’re heading out. Be here if you’re coming.”

“Yes, Master Parfaz,” Alibaba bowed respectfully.

“Hmph.” The caravan master raked him with another look. “What have you got in there?”

Alibaba grinned.

_Sea and Balbadd, here I come!_


	2. Hook, Line... and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, joys of the sailor's life. Close quarters, suspicious passengers... monsters....

Jahan stretched a nagging crick out of his back, settling into his persona of a reputable ex-Partevian merchant as the _Waves’ Shadow_ loaded up. Captain Aden knew better, anyone who was anyone plying the waves around Balbadd’s islands did, but Aden wasn’t averse to pretending to be fooled. Not when they had a few unknown passengers embarking, and rumors of true pirates skulking around Balbadd’s main port.

_Pirates, or something_ , Jahan scowled, listening to the clean way the waves lapped the _Shadow’s_ hull. Aden had made sure her hull was careened recently, then. Good. Because _something_ had apparently taken out a few merchants far too canny to be caught by normal hazards of wind and wave, and they might need every drop of speed Aden could squeeze out of her.

And here was the grumpy Balbadd captain himself, leaning on the railing next to him as those suspect passengers made their way down the dock to the _Shadow_ ’s gangplank. “Good. Another hour and I’d have left them, cargo or no.”

“Can’t blame a landlubber for wanting to keep the ground under him as long as possible,” Jahan said lightly, looking over the scattered few they’d be adding to the passengers. Armed, good, so long as they were legitimate passengers. Dark, rough hair, obviously from the Oasis Cities; which agreed with their story, that was promising-

The youngest stranger pulled down a desert veil to breathe in the harbor air, an odd lock of blond hair sticking up as if it couldn’t stand being trapped any longer.

_Interesting_. “So that’s the one who convinced the Simi dyeworks not to wait for the pass to clear?” Jahan asked, casually curious.

Aden gave him a look of, _What are you up to now?_ “What are you talking about? People made Parfaz a good offer. Why should he hang around paying guards’ wages while he waits for local soldiers to get up the nerve to chase bandits? If they ever do.” But Aden eyed the blond himself, if only a sideways glance as the young man stumbled a little on the gangplank’s sway, then caught himself as if he’d half-remembered the rhythm of waves. “Says he’s Alibaba. Headed for Balbadd. Cargo, some kind of cloth, jasper, and beads.”

Interesting assortment for a young merchant. “No sword,” Jahan observed, almost touching the one at his own waist.

“Knife, though. Huh.” Aden scowled. “Plan to try him once we’re a day out? If there are pirates, we need to know who can fight.”

“It could be interesting,” Jahan agreed. “Well, whoever got the dyeworks to try a cargo this way, it’s a stroke of luck for you, Captain. Simi’s dyes are lightfast, even down here in the salt air. They’ll bring a good price in Balbadd.”

Aden didn’t look any happier. “Maybe on the islands. Nothing’s bringing a good price in the capital city these days... not unless you want to register to trade with those war-thirsty madmen in the Kou Empire.”

Jahan held his face politely neutral, even as a strand of his grayed green hair tickled his cheek. He’d tried to get more information out of Aden before, but the captain had been tight as a clam on-shore. Maybe now that they’d all be safely out at sea, he’d talk. _Hmm. Confirms some of Sindukht’s and Beniel’s reports_....

“You _are_ registered to trade in Balbadd, aren’t you?”

Of course he wasn’t. No one on the _Shadow_ was. Aden knew the question was ridiculous. But manners were manners. “Would I be headed there if I weren’t? Really, Captain. I have family I haven’t seen in over a year; quite possibly a new grandchild, by now. I’m not bringing trouble down on their heads.”

_No, trouble’s already there,_ Jahan thought, worried. _I just don’t know if we know how bad it is. Registering with the Empire to trade in Balbadd? King Rashid would never have_....

But Rashid was dead, spirits have mercy on his soul. Abhmad was King in Balbadd now.

_And he’s no Rashid. Damn it_.

Jahan gripped the railing, polished wood soothing under his fingers. Well. Carnelian, lapis and soapstone from Partevia weren’t going to sell themselves. Much less spices, ivory, and perfumes.

_I’ll get fair prices in the islands, one way or another. On the mainland... I want to know what’s going on!_

“Fretting won’t make the winds blow any faster,” Aden grumbled. “Glad to have your sword along. If it is pirates, we’ll have a fight on our hands, one way or another.”

“If it is pirates?” Jahan gave him a look askance.

Aden shook his head. “Word on the water is, some of the _Night Lady’s_ pigeons made it to shore. With no messages.”

That... was ominous. Pirates did their best to secure a ship’s messenger pigeons, if they knew there were any on board. If they’d known the _Lady_ had them, not one should have made it through. If they didn’t - someone at least should have been able to shove a black paper into a pigeon’s carrier tube. Every ship kept those on hand, knowing if pirates hit they might have only minutes to get a message off.

_Something happened. Something unexpected_.

“Whatever it is, we’ll find it,” Aden said firmly. Raised his voice, and headed for the gangplank. “Look lively! Stowing always takes longer than you clod-walkers think, so get to it, the men are going to have to show you how to do it right! We’ve got less than an hour to the tide, and this ship is not missing it!”

* * *

_Well, at least I don’t get seasick. Anymore_.

Alibaba tried to be quiet and invisible in the shadow of a locked chest of carving-wood, as a few of Captain Aden’s men and any passenger who looked half ready to fight squared off with wooden practice blades. Seven days on shipboard, and he’d managed to avoid sparring with merchant Jahan by dint of tripping, finding a task someone was willing to let a passenger give a hand with, or just making himself scarce when the older Partevian was looking for him. Which was no easy trick on a ship the size of the _Shadow_.

Not easy, and also very frustrating, given he wished he _could_ spar with Jahan. The guy really knew what he was doing with that firangi. To the point that Alibaba had serious doubts about exactly how long the man had been a merchant.

_He’s good. Really, really good. Partevian army good._

_He might be good enough to know what I am_.

If he’d been walking with Jahan in a caravan Alibaba might have risked it anyway, just to learn something. Trapped on shipboard at least a day out from the nearest land? That had _bad idea_ written all over it.

_We’d better get to Balbadd soon, or I’m going to run out of hiding spots_ -

“Land ho!”

_Wait. What?_

Alibaba didn’t quite slip out of the shadows as Jahan shaded his eyes and frowned toward the lookout’s pointing finger. But he did straighten up, unkinking his shoulders in case he had to move fast. If he remembered the maps right-

“There shouldn’t be an island here,” Jahan muttered. And glanced straight at him.

Alibaba blinked, wide-eyed and innocent. As if he had no idea how very, very rare it was for someone not born in Balbadd to have that much knowledge of their islands. The shoals and shallows between the shifting islands and the firm land of Balbadd’s city were half the reason the kingdom managed to stay independent. Hard for Reim or Partevia to get too annoying when one wrong slip in an unmarked channel would wreck the toughest keel ever laid. “We could have been blown off course?”

“Don’t say that where the captain can hear you,” Jahan said dryly. “I don’t like this. It smacks of meddling. And magic.”

Flickering fire, Alibaba might blame on Amon. Appearing islands? Definitely not his fault-

Unless it wasn’t _Amon’s_ fault, but someone else’s. “Maybe a magi’s raised a dungeon,” Alibaba said, trying not to shiver.

“Hmm.” Jahan eyed him a moment more, then turned back toward the growing green spot on the horizon. “There’s never been a dungeon in Balbadd. The magi tend to look for more warrior kings, from what I’ve heard.”

“They do?” Alibaba stepped into plain view despite himself, eager to know. “You’ve heard about magi?”

“Mm-hmm. There’s one, Lady Scheherazade, who’s been High Priestess of the Reim Empire who knows how long. Over a century, at least. You trade in Reim long enough, you hear about her.” Jahan gave him another glance. “And how do you know about magi?”

“There was a dungeon in Qishan,” Alibaba admitted. “It’d been there for ten years. There were all kinds of rumors.”

“Was?” Jahan arched a curious brow. “Someone’s cleared the dungeon of Amon?”

_Oops_. “I... guess so?” Alibaba scratched the back of his head, pulling on his best clueless driver’s manners. “It’s gone now. So someone must have, right?” He blinked back at the man. “How’d you know it was the dungeon called Amon?” _As if I have no clue how the dungeon gets its name. Careful, careful; this guy is_ really _sharp_.

Jahan squinted at him, amber eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I ended up crossing account ledgers with a certain ambitious young merchant once. Since then I’ve made a habit of listening to the rumors.”

“You traded with Sinbad?” Alibaba blurted out. “Where? When? What was it like?”

“Interesting,” Jahan said dryly. “As is the fact I _hadn’t_ heard any rumors about Amon. Usually, when a dungeon is cleared, magic and power shows up fairly fast.... _Now_ what?”

Alibaba looked at the two crewmen launching a small boat, and tried not to twitch as the captain made his steady way over to Jahan. “If that island’s not supposed to be there, why are they heading for it?”

“What, you don’t want fresh water?” Captain Aden said dryly. “I could use some.” He scowled; which seemed to be what he did most of the time, but the wrinkles were deeper than usual. “And if it’s not supposed to be there, we need to know why it is. Jahan, a word?”

_An island that’s not supposed to be there_. Alibaba drew a few feet farther away as the pair of old sea-traders fell into a low discussion. _Something about that sounds familiar. From a long time ago_.

Uneasy, he shrugged off his cloak. He wasn’t hot, not nearly, but something about that island twitched at old stories.

_If it’s a dungeon, I am not heading into it. I barely got out of Amon’s with Aladdin’s help. Head into one on my own? No thanks_ -

There was something pink on shore.

Alibaba closed one hand in a circle and cupped it to his eye; not nearly as good as a far-lens, but shutting out some glare could let you pick out a lot... oh. My. “Um. Last I heard, Balbadd ladies don’t swim naked, right?” Not that ladies wore a lot in the water, but more than-

_That doesn’t look right_.

He didn’t know what it was. Just - something about that wriggle of enticing flesh didn’t look right.

Glass glinted; Captain Aden, raising a real far-lens. And staring, face going pale.

Jahan looked between them, and didn’t even try to grab the lens. “Make sail! All speed! Signal the boat to come back! _Move, you scurvy bastards!_ ”

“It’s not real,” Aden was muttering, still pale. “It can’t be real....”

Alibaba grabbed his shoulder, and shook the man. “Forget real! Just move!” Let go and danced back, before Aden’s fist could swat him. “What is it?”

A flicker at the corner of his vision; he turned back toward the island just in time to see shapely flesh uncoil into writhing pink, whipping around one of the boatmen like an angry octopus.

“Island whale!” Jahan snarled. “Get under way, damn your salty hides!”

_Island whale_. Alibaba froze in place as sails boomed and frantic sailors raced over the riggings. That story, he knew. The massive hunter of the sea, that spent most of its days basking; sleeping, sometimes, to rouse when unwary sailors built a fire on its back. Or sometimes hunting, luring lonely sailors with what they wanted most. Either way, it’d sink them, then feast.

“There hasn’t been one in almost a decade!” Aden was still not back to full color, even as he shouted orders. And clenched a fist, as another tentacle smashed the small boat to flinders. “They’re supposed to be dead!”

“There hasn’t been one near Balbadd,” Jahan growled. “There’s a lot of ocean out there. Solomon, I think we know what happened to the _Night Lady_... more speed, damn it!”

“The wind’s off, curse it all!” But Aden headed for the wheel with a grim glint in his eyes, as if he’d wrestle more speed from the sea by main force.

_We’re sailing with the wind_ , Alibaba thought. _The whale’s swimming. It doesn’t care where the wind is_.

_We’re not going to make it_.

Heart in his throat, Alibaba carefully took off his shoes and settled them on his cloak. He’d picked up a little ship-handling over the past week, but not enough to help. The best thing he could do was stay out of the way. And be ready to swim for it, when the whale finally caught them.

_So much for coming into Balbadd rich. Oh well. Terrifyingly come, easy go?_

And he knew he was trying to laugh to keep his brain from freezing in mortal terror. Even the biggest monsters in Amon’s dungeon hadn’t been _that_ big.

_I don’t want to die here!_

And... that was an odd twitch in his mind. Like words, caught on the tip of his tongue.

_‘Sacred servant of austerity and decorum, I command thee and thy brethren....’_

_No! Not now!_ Alibaba thought frantically, lips clamped closed. _I can’t do anything weird now! Not while we’re all- oh hell!_

The island had just crunched over what was left of the small boat, bits of wood flying from the waves. Part of what had seemed a beach lifted, water-washed boulders opening to reveal eyes the size of a man. The lure-tentacles writhed completely out of human form, snapping at the _Shadow_ ’s railings with razor tips.

One redheaded crewman was snagged by the arm, and dragged over with barely a shriek.

_No!_

Alibaba cleared the railing, poised to hit the water... and realized yes, that was water coming up at him, and this was a _terrible idea_.

_If I live, this is going to hurt_.

He hit the waves, holding his breath as the water shocked skin and ears. Chadli, that was the crewman’s name; he’d traded part of a meal and a couple Balbadd jokes with the man, he wasn’t going to let something eat him without a fight-

_There!_

Knife pulled, Alibaba swam for the struggling knot of man and tentacle. Blood and bubbles of air strewed the water; not much of either, but if he didn’t do something fast-

Steel slashed out, and the water was suddenly _hot_.

_What the-?_

Half-severed, the tentacle recoiled. Alibaba grabbed the struggling sailor by his whole arm, and yanked them both up.

They broke the surface in frothing pink blood. Alibaba gasped for breath, uneasily grateful that Chadli was too busy choking and coughing out water to struggle. _I hurt it!_

Oh yeah. And the island whale knew it, too. Other tentacles had pulled away from the _Shadow_ , which was... making all speed away from them. Of course.

Alibaba grit his teeth, and forced down panic before it could drown him deeper than the sea. Not easy, with that glittering amber eye rolling to study him, fins like great sails digging into the water to turn it, a mouth half the size of the _Shadow_ itself opening wide. The currents alone were going to drag them down and in-

_I hurt it. That means it can die_.

_I’m not going to die here._

“Sacred spirit of austerity and decorum,” Alibaba breathed, “I command thee and thy brethren.”

Chadli was rousing now, moaning from the pain of a shredded arm. Then he caught sight of what was coming at them.

Alibaba ignored the screams, and let the strange words come. “Use my magoi to lend tremendous power to my will.” _I have no idea what this is going to do, but we’re kind of out of options._...

And now he had to kick, harder, as the whale sucked in and Chadli was trying to drown them both. But there was the eye, maybe ten yards away; and if he could reach that, somehow-

_“Show yourself, Amon!”_

Fire roared.

* * *

A torrent of fire lashed deep into monstrous flesh, lighting stony skin in blazing shades of lemon and scarlet. Jahan clung to the railing like a lifeline as the island whale bellowed, the whole sea convulsing with the wild thrash of fins.

“What in Solomon’s name is _that?_ ” Aden swore.

“What in Solomon’s name,” Jahan breathed, “indeed.”

A final bone-breaking twist, and the roar of flames died.

Jahan raised his head, as the waves finally started to slow. Blood, spreading slick as oil over the water. Rocky flesh laying limp, luring tentacles drifting in the water like dead worms. And an eerie quiet. “Captain. We need to go back.”

“Go back?” Aden snarled, still gripping the wheel. “If that thing’s not dead-”

“If it’s not, then this is our best chance to kill it,” Jahan cut him off. “But if it is... we may have living men in the water. Would you leave them to the sharks that monster will draw?”

The words Aden loosed should have blistered all the paint left on the _Shadow_. But he snapped orders to the crew, and spun the wheel.

_Be alive, Alibaba,_ Jahan thought, searching bloody waves. _I don’t want to have to answer to Harun’s ghost_.... “There!”

Pale skin and soaked blond hair, tugging Chadli as he swam. The sailor wasn’t making it easy, either; trailing blood, and thrashing weakly, as if he thought Alibaba’s arms were a shark’s jaws.

_He probably does_ , Jahan thought; making a quick loop in a rope, large enough to pull over a man’s head and arms, before handing it off to tall mate Gaffar to throw. “Alibaba!” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth so it stood a chance of penetrating waterlogged ears. “Catch!”

Gaffar’s aim was good; the loop landed within a yard of them. Alibaba blinked at it as if he’d been lost at sea for days, then struck out for the promise of rescue.

After that it was just heave and pull, dragging the exhausted pair up and shoving Chadli at the ship’s cook and healer, Bahir.

“Still alive,” Aden muttered as Alibaba sat dazed on the deck, still dripping. “Who knows if he’ll keep the arm, though... You! What did you just _do?_ ”

“Do?” Gold eyes blinked, exhausted. “Um....”

“Magic Tools take a toll on the user,” Jahan stated, making sure his voice was loud enough that all the too-curious ears on deck would hear. “A few seconds more, and he might have been dead as well.”

_There. That should make anyone greedy for magic think twice_.

“I’ll look after him,” Jahan went on, deliberately not glancing at wide and worried eyes. “I’ve seen magoi exhaustion in Reim.” _And other places_. “But I may need a few supplies....”

Aden’s brows climbed to salty hair at what he asked for next. After all, it was a bit tricky on a ship.

_And if it is just a Magic Tool, it won’t help at all_ , Jahan reflected. _But if it’s not_....

Well. Then things were about to get _interesting_.

* * *

_Warm. And dry_.

Alibaba blinked up at the wooden overhead of a cabin. And not the one he’d been sharing with five other travelers and cargo underfoot, so each of them barely had enough room for a hammock. This was one of the _Shadow_ ’s few passenger cabins, porthole flung open to bring in an evening breeze of salt and blood; still just enough room to swing a mouse, but the bulkheads gave a rare solitude that made him want to relax even more than the crackling warmth by his side-

_Firepot_ , Alibaba realized, spotting the heat-waver above the small blue-and-white porcelain tucked almost against his borrowed bunk. _The captain let someone light that_ inside _a cabin?_

“Don’t worry,” Jahan said dryly. “If it tipped, you’d probably put it out by reflex.”

Alibaba sat up, wincing at a bruise or two where Chadli must have hit him. “Did Chadli make it?”

“He’s not going to be lifting anything with that arm for weeks, but so far it looks good.” Jahan raised a graying brow. “I thought you’d ask about the island whale.”

“If that wasn’t dead, we all would be,” Alibaba muttered. _Ow_.

Though all things considered, a few bruises and getting soaked to the skin was getting off easy. Even if he did feel like he’d dragged the whole _Shadow_ behind him.

_I might not be out of this yet_. “What did you mean, I’d put it out?” Alibaba asked, honestly curious. “That sounds like-”

“Magic?” Jahan cut him off, amused. “Someone conquered Amon, indeed.”

_Oh boy_.

“Hmm. You’re a lot more cautious than Sinbad was.” The older merchant leaned against the bulkhead, amber eyes narrowed. “Of course, by the time I spotted that madman dancing on the roofs in a lightning storm, he’d been carrying Metal Vessels for years.”

Alibaba blinked. “In a lightning storm?” he managed.

“Mm-hmm. Baal is a lightning Djinn, and Valefor’s ice... well, you may never have seen hailstones, but it’s water-based enough for a storm to be tasty for him, as well.” Jahan shrugged. “I was rude enough to ask, and he was grinning enough to answer. In short, _he_ wasn’t in any danger, because the Djinn would just soak up the magoi kin to their own before it could harm him.”

“Magoi?” That’d been one of the odd words Amon had given him. It had to be important.

“The energy Magic Tools - and Djinn - use,” Jahan informed him. “You’d need to find a magician to tell you much more, and they’re a bit thin on the ground, but... the way Sinbad explained it, everything in the world has magoi. Fire, water, storms; even people.” He paused, studying the flickering flames. “Sinbad said, given they drink your own strength for their magic, it’s wiser to indulge your Djinn when you can. Though I’d guess you haven’t been bound long enough to go curling up in any bonfires. Yet.”

Curling up in a bonfire. The image itself made Alibaba want to gulp. Though not as much as the twitch that felt like _interest_ from the knife tucked up against his side. _No way am I jumping into a fire just because_ you _think it’s a good idea, Amon. Not without a really good reason_.

“You probably should stick to calling it a Magic Tool,” Jahan said plainly. “Just as I should hold to my story that I recognized you as the son of an old merchant friend. Which is true enough; Harun was a friend, even if we tried to beat each other out in a deal or two.”

Alibaba shot him a quick look. “Harun?”

A gray-green brow rose. “He never mentioned the name?”

“He?” Alibaba tried not to gulp. “Look, my mother was... from the streets, I’m lucky I even know her name, much less-”

“Harun was the name your father used in Reim, whenever he could slip away from his guards long enough,” Jahan stated. “Your father, Rashid Saluja, twenty-second king of Balbadd.” A wry smile. “I wasn’t the man you traded with that day, young prince, but I was watching. I’d put up with that Reimish annoyance Hesychius for days in port. How I laughed, to see him beaten out by a ten-year-old!”

_I am so dead_.

“Easy.” Moving slow, Jahan held up weaponless hands. “I hope I’d have better sense, at my age, than to threaten one who’s survived a dungeon without cause. I’m not going to tell the crew, lad. For the same reason you wouldn’t tell them, I suspect. If your brothers hear their lost youngest has come back to Balbadd as a _Dungeon Capturer_ \- they know the Sinbad tales, too. You’re marked to be a king; and I don’t know what mess is brewing in Balbadd as we speak, but that would set the pot boiling over for sure.”

“I’m not!” Alibaba tried not to squeak. “I mean, I did, but - it wasn’t all me, I made it because I was Aladdin’s friend, he helped me and I can’t even find him, all I was looking for was the treasure to make things right, not... not _this_.” He touched the hilt, feeling those odd words still hanging in the back of his mind. Words that had killed a monster out of the old tales, and could probably burn the _Shadow_ to the waterline. “I don’t want to be the heir. I told my- I told King Rashid that. Before... everything went wrong.”

Jahan frowned. “Then why come back to Balbadd?”

“To repay the treasury. Then I was going to Sindria. And not coming back.” He swallowed, throat dry. “Only something’s wrong in Balbadd, isn’t it? I’ve asked people. Listened to every rumor I could find. There’s no reign-coin for the new king. And trade through Balbadd’s gone crazy. Things aren’t going out, not on lawful ships. And anything coming in past the islands is supposed to be coming through someplace called the Kou Empire. What’s going on?”

“Supposed to be?” Jahan echoed, almost mildly.

Alibaba gave him a flat look. “Come on. Aden’s no pirate. But if he’s an honest ship captain who’s always paid the port fees? I will _swim_ into Balbadd.”

That startled a chuckle from the merchant. “Because he was willing to take on an unknown youngster with a sketchy cargo in the first place, with no note or recommendation from a known trader. Meaning he meant to swindle you with more than your share of the port fees or not pay them at all. You knew you were on a smuggler’s ship from the start. Oh yes; you definitely learned at Harun’s knee.” Jahan took a breath, nose wrinkling at the blood in the sea air. “What’s going on in Balbadd? That’s what I’d like to know. My family’s lives depends on it.” He folded his hands, trader-serious. “I propose a deal.”

Alibaba swung his legs off the bunk, and folded one arm over the other as he arched a brow right back. “I’m listening.”

“We both need to find out what’s happening on the mainland,” Jahan said plainly. “You could use someone with local contacts. I could use another blade standing by me, while I ask some of those contacts delicate questions.” He paused. “And honestly, I’m wondering if that’s the only island whale out there. The last time your father cleared them out of Balbadd’s waters, it took a coordinated effort by Balbadd’s merchant ships and Sindria’s to be sure we got them all.”

“King Rashid went after island whales?” Alibaba gripped his own arms, feeling that rush of loss all over again. “I... never heard that part of the story.”

“Of course not; it drove his generals absolutely out of their minds,” Jahan said, almost gently. “Risk Balbadd’s king on a monster-hunt? Ridiculous. Rashid Saluja would never have been so foolish! He hired the merchant Harun instead.”

_I want to know more_. But Alibaba kept the words behind his teeth, because this was a _deal_. And there was no way it was over yet. “You want more than just a guy with strange magic he doesn’t even know how to use right.”

“I do,” Jahan nodded. “You said you meant to pay back the treasury. I don’t know all that happened that night three years ago, but that would imply quite a sum of money.” The merchant shrugged. “I wouldn’t tell a man not to pay his debts. But if you mean to help Balbadd, there might be better uses for a dungeon’s treasure than just filling King Abhmad’s coffers.”

“And you might get a piece of it,” Alibaba stated.

“I might,” Jahan allowed. “Though at the moment, I’ve already come out with an unexpected profit.” He waved at the bloody sea outside the porthole. “Captain Aden’s sent birds to the nearest islands, it’d be a shame for all that carcass to go to waste when this ship couldn’t carry half of it. But we’ll get the choicest bits, the fangs, _and_ the bragging rights.” His grin might have startled a shark. “Meaning we can sail right into Balbadd proper, and no one will care if we’re registered or not. And that... will let us find out _many_ things.”

Alibaba thought that over, and set his feet on the deck to stand, woozy or not. “How can I help?”

* * *

Red to his elbows, Aden gave Jahan a look that had edged down from aggravated to only mildly disgruntled. “You talked the youngster back into bed?”

“I told him he’d be more use to us rested,” the merchant said frankly. “Just in case there is another island whale.”

“You don’t really think there is.”

“Probably not,” Jahan allowed. “At least, not within a day’s sail. They don’t like to share their meals, or their hunting grounds. Still... better safe than smashed to flinders.”

“Huh.” Aden studied the pile of giant teeth on his once-neat deck, and skimmed a glance over sailors turned oddly cheerful butchers. Then again, there was nothing like almost getting eaten to make a man want to turn the tables. “Jahan. Who is he?”

Aden knew him a bit too well. “The son of an old friend,” Jahan said smoothly.

“You don’t have _that_ many friends. Old or young.”

“It’s the truth.” Which wouldn’t stop Aden from asking awkward questions. And if the crew caught onto that-

Ah. That might work. Smirking, Jahan reached into his sleeve.

Aden gave him a flat look. “Bribery. At your age.”

“Who said anything about a bribe?” Jahan shrugged, gold coin all but hidden between two fingers. “I want to make a bet.”

The captain picked up a rag, and slowly swiped off blood. “...What kind of a bet?”

Hmm. How long had it taken Sinbad to get truly dangerous, based on his tales? “In twelve months, King Abhmad will find himself deposed.” Jahan smirked wider. “And likely very, very sorry.”

Aden started, eyes going wilder than Jahan had ever seen them. “What on the waves or under them- you can’t be serious!”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” Jahan kept his voice barely louder than those waves. “But perhaps you wouldn’t want to take that bet. After all, it might just be one you’d favor, as well.”

“Abhmad’s no fit king for Balbadd, if what I’ve heard is true.” Aden’s words were just as quiet. “The question is _how_.”

Jahan inclined his head. “I had an old friend once. You might have met him, in the odder parts of the docks.” One pause, to set the hook. “Sometimes, his name was Harun.”

“Ha-” The name choked off in Aden’s throat. “That boy?”

“ _That boy_ has met a Djinn, and lived to tell the tale,” Jahan said firmly. “Trust me, Aden. He may not look like much now... but things are about to become interesting.”

* * *

They sailed into Balbadd with the tide before dawn, mist curling about them and everyone’s teeth on edge.

_Too quiet_ , Alibaba thought, gaze flicking across still-dark water. _There wasn’t even a pilot waiting near the harbor mouth to take us in. If Captain Aden didn’t know the channels, we’d be wrecked by now. There’s some fishermen out, and a few trading vessels docked, but... is this all? This is Balbadd!_

“This is worse than the last time,” Captain Aden said darkly. “Look sharp, men. With this few ships making port, the dock-master will be looking for _entertainment_.”

Jahan moved in beside Alibaba, firm grip drawing him away from the rail. “Hood up.”

“But-”

“Your best defense is that no one will be looking for you. But,” Jahan reached up, and flicked that one blond lock he never could tame, “you have your father’s hair, and I’m not the only one who remembers it.”

_I do?_

Alibaba pulled up the hood of his cloak anyway, because it was a cold morning, even with the warmth from the water, fog whispering all the way up the streets to the noble palaces. And he didn’t want to draw attention. Not when Balbadd looked half-dead about them.

“Now I know why my family’s stuck to the islands,” Jahan said, half to himself. “I’d heard it was bad. This is worse.”

“What happened?” Alibaba said in disbelief. “War? A plague?”

“Worse, I think.” Jahan was scanning the fog-laced streets himself, trying to peer as far beyond the docks as human eyes could. “King Abhmad and his nobles have been trading with the Kou Empire.”

“They’re... east of here, right?” Alibaba said, uncertain. “Somewhere beyond the desert, and the central plains? I don’t know much about them.”

“No one does. But they’re not beyond the central plains.” Jahan looked grim. “Not anymore.”

_Abhmad’s trading with an expanding empire. One even merchants like Jahan don’t know_. “This isn’t good,” Alibaba breathed, watching torches light the darkness as someone finally roused the port authorities. “We’ve got to find out more.”

“We do, eh?” Jahan might have been smiling. “Let Captain Aden handle this, first. We’re just innocent merchants.”

Right. And if the dock-master bought that, Alibaba had a dry oasis to sell him.

The crew brought them in, Chadli getting dragged back by the cook when he would have tried to help. Ropes were flung out and tied down, casks over the side as bumpers for when the tide decided to turn, and the gangplank dropped just as a huffing white-turbaned man with a gilded sword-hilt and three guards with much more plain weapons found their pier and headed down it.

Alibaba didn’t need Jahan’s look to fade back into the shadows of casks that smelled of fresh blood. Dock-masters were the captain’s business, first. The man might decide he wanted to talk to passengers and merchants after, but this was Aden’s ship.

_Not sure what I could do to help, anyway_ , Alibaba thought. _This all feels so_ wrong-

Movement in the fog. For a moment he thought he saw thick dark hair, and angry eyes.

_Cassim?_

If it was, he was gone in the next curl of mist. But there were definitely people up there, creeping from the shadows to watch a ship come in.

_No noise. Why are they so quiet?_

He knew why he’d have been quiet, when he’d lived on the knife’s edge. But this was Balbadd’s port. There were always supposed to be ships sailing in, guards couldn’t possibly harass every citizen who pushed their way down to the water to try and find work....

_Only they can, can’t they? There’s not enough ships. Not enough at all_.

“Tell me you’re not fool enough to draw that,” Jahan murmured.

Alibaba started, and kept his hand away from his knife. “This is wrong. This is _horrible_.”

“It is.” And there was anger lurking in Jahan’s tone, quiet and deadly as a sand-viper. “The islands must be dodging most of it so far, but when whoever’s choking trade reaches there as well-” He cut himself off, falling silent as a shadow.

_Then your family’s in danger too_ , Alibaba finished silently. _We need to know what’s going on. And then... then we need a plan_.

What kind of plan would fix _this_ , he had no idea. But there had to be a way. People had done this, somehow - Abhmad had done this in three years, how could anyone hurt all of Balbadd this badly-

_Stop. Stop thinking. You’re going to panic. And you_ can’t.

_Stop thinking. Just watch. And listen_.

The dock-master puffed his way up the gangplank, guards following with grim faces. “Captain-”

“Aden, of the _Waves’ Shadow_.” The captain marched forward to clasp his hand as if they were old friends. “Good to see you so quickly, Dock-Master... Shahidi, that’s the name I had, from the last ships I passed. But of course you’re here so swiftly, a man of your diligence could never fail to get the firsthand report of an island whale in Balbadd waters!”

“If you think you can just sail into Balbadd without the proper registration, Captain....” Shahidi sputtered to a stop. “An island whale? Have you been drinking? There hasn’t been an island whale in Balbadd for over a decade!”

“Bahir,” Aden called out, not even glancing behind him.

A trace of a smirk on his face, Bahir tipped over a cask of sword-long teeth. They rattled to the deck with _tings_ like fine porcelain knocking together, torchlight glinting off a shine of cold white.

“Solomon’s Seal and Ring,” one of the guards swore. “You mean, there really was-?”

“We had to leave the rest of the carcass to associates in the outer islands,” Aden stated as Shahidi blanched, and one of his guards cautiously tested a saw-edged tooth with his thumb. “We didn’t have a pigeon for Balbadd, so of course we had to make port with all due speed, to report this to the king’s navy.”

Not that Balbadd had ever really had a navy, Alibaba knew. Bloody-minded merchant privateers willing to go out of their way for king and country, yes. A navy? Not really.

_Right now, the_ Shadow’s _the fastest ship in port. We_ are _the navy_.

_...And that’s important. Jahan said the islands are in better shape. Whatever’s gone wrong, it’s centered here_.

Alibaba tried to feel around the edges of that thought, half-listening to Aden spin an exaggerated tale of illusory maidens, harpoons, and flaming casks of oil tossed down the monster’s gaping maw. Aden could have all the credit he liked. Alibaba wasn’t even sure what he’d done, outside of let Amon finally have his way to keep them both alive.

_Whatever it was, it’s going to have to wait for dry land before I try anything like it again_ , Alibaba thought at steel. _There’s no way I’m going to try calling up fire on a ship!_

He’d swear his knife felt disappointed.

_I don’t know what’s creepier. That there’s a Djinn living in my knife, or that I’m getting used to it_.

It shouldn’t have been creepy. Sinbad had cleared dungeons. He was a hero, a master merchant-adventurer, a _king_.

_I’m just a guy who wants to pay back his debts_ , Alibaba thought. _I’m just - Aladdin’s friend. I don’t want to be more than that_.

But something was _wrong_ in Balbadd.

Listening to Aden gruffly flatter the dock-master and solemnly nod at all the rules he was breaking by just sailing in, Alibaba thought he was starting to figure out what.

_Dock taxes, ow. Port taxes on top of that - seriously? License to trade in Balbadd requires registering, with fees and seals to be paid for in Fan; what the heck is a Fan? Marine rights_ -

That froze him cold, and he saw Jahan twitch in a way that had to be a trained soldier suppressing his own urge to draw his sword and start cutting down bastards on the spot.

_Marine rights have been ceded to the Kou Empire._

_Oh hell no._

This was a disaster. This was worse than a plague. Disease burned out; people got better or died. If the Kou Empire controlled Balbadd’s seas, they controlled its trade, its people, its ability to fight-

_Abhmad, what have you done? I’ve got to do something, we’ve got to stop this-!_

“You there!” Shahidi was scowling at the both of them, as if he were just itching to chain them down and make them fill out paperwork for the rest of eternity. “Why are you skulking around in the shadows? I want a full list of passengers and crew, now!”

“Of course you do, sir.” Jahan bowed; at the last moment managing to soften it into a merchant’s grace, rather than a soldier’s iron acknowledgment. “Come along, Merhdad; I’m sure the dock-master is a very busy man.”

_Who’s- oh_. Alibaba took a quick breath, and bowed himself, jerky as an apprentice should be. _Can’t blow it now. Tying this guy up and dumping him overboard for the sharks won’t fix anything. Not now_.

No. Right now he was going to listen, and watch, and find out everything he could about the Kou Empire and what they’d done. So he could find a way to stop them in their tracks, and get them the hell out of his country.

_Ceding the marine rights? Let them choke off our trade? How could any king of Balbadd ever do that? It’s crazy! We let people trade here because they’re going to trade anyway; we were founded by smugglers, our first King was the best pirate on the seas-_

_Trade anyway_.

Alibaba gripped the rolled-up sleeves of his cloak, trying to look as if any attack of nerves was just a perfectly understandable reaction to being questioned by soldiers with well-oiled swords.

_The_ Waves’ Shadow _is a smuggler. Jahan and Captain Aden - they’re_ smugglers.

_Balbadd needs trade, or she’s going to die_.

Right. Save his city, his country, first. Then march into Abhmad’s audience chamber and find out what the _hell_ he thought he was doing.

_And I start right here, and right now_.

* * *

_Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea_ , Jahan thought, keeping a careful eye on the boiling rage beside him. Oh, Shahidi’s men probably noticed nothing, beyond the usual terrified aggravation of another young merchant victim of port legalities. But he’d been across a bargaining table from Rashid, and he _knew_.

_Balbadd is in deadly peril. And if sweeping these idiots into the water in a blaze of flames would do any good whatsoever, they’d already be on fire_.

And if it came to that, he’d be cutting throats right behind the youngster. Either the marine rights had been ceded since his last water-letter from home, or Shahidi had dropped a tidbit of news no one should have had. Jahan honestly couldn’t decide which was more frightening.

_We have to do something about this. There isn’t a stranglehold on the islands, not yet, Balbadd would never have the power_ -

Balbadd proper, no. The Kou Empire? They would. Sooner or later, they would. You didn’t stay an expanding empire by letting a conquered territory flout your laws with impunity.

_Balbadd isn’t conquered!_

Ah, but that was pride in his adopted homeland talking, and not the cold calculations of a merchant. Without marine rights, without free trade, Balbadd was already half-conquered without a blade drawn. And Balbadd’s third prince knew it.

_That’s... not just rage_ , Jahan thought, studying the oddly familiar cant of a young head, that slight narrowed edge to gold eyes. _He has a plan_.

Oh Solomon. _Rashid’s son_ had a plan.

_We need to get through this, and talk_ , Jahan decided. _He’s young. He’s idealistic - I was, at his age, and I’d had the army to beat it out of me. Whatever he’s planning might not have a chance_.

But so long as Alibaba did have a plan, he wasn’t setting the whole dock on fire. Which gave the _Shadow_ half a chance of getting out in one piece.

_Get through this_ , Jahan told himself. _Get the perishables offloaded. And then... we need to get to the islands. Regroup. Tell people what’s happened. And then_....

He didn’t know.

_I’ll think of something. I have to_.

* * *

_For one who knows so little of magic, my King grasps forces acting at a distance better than I would have thought_.

Amon still couldn’t reach Alibaba’s conscious mind; not beyond the gentle push to place words of command in his king’s grasp, so Alibaba could draw strength from Amon’s rukh. And it was a gentle push, no matter what Alibaba might think. He was a magi’s choice, like it or not. He needed to learn the power at his command, for the world’s sake.

He couldn’t speak to Alibaba, not outside of dreams. But he could listen. And what he had heard - and seen, in that scrolling map of Alibaba’s thoughts - had been interesting, indeed.

_Kou Empire_ now labeled the northeastern corner of the map, wrapping around the desert to aim like a deadly spear at Balbadd. Trade routes to and from the islands and mainland were now all in doubt, a spiderweb that arced across the world fraying at its center.

_From here, the Kou Empire can strangle half the world’s trade_ , Amon reflected. _Including much of Sindria’s_.

He had no knowledge of this _Sinbad_ outside of Alibaba’s young hopes. But that man, too, had been chosen by a magi; and the fact that an Empire moved to threaten him did not bode well for anyone.

_And an Empire that would bring this much ruin to half the world... yes, Aladdin was right_ , Amon reluctantly admitted. _Here and now, Balbadd is a country that must survive, for the flow of the rukh to move forward. And Alibaba is the one who will fight for her_.

Not that the young king knew he was going to fight. Not yet. So far, his only plan was to weave together those frayed strands of trade, and save his faltering people from the abyss of despair.

_But any who have laid such a trap as this, will not bow down and retreat_. Amon rubbed together intangible hands. _If my king fails, I will urge him elsewhere; Sinbad should have the resources to find a magi. But if he succeeds_....

_Then Balbadd’s enemies will be forced to draw their blades. And we will fight!_

* * *

“They’re gone.” Alibaba breathed a sigh of relief as torches vanished, before he gave Jahan an rueful look. “Merhdad? No one’s going to believe I’m from Partevia!”

“But they will believe you’re not from Balbadd.” Jahan sounded altogether too cheerful for a man who’d been seriously considering if Balbadd would miss one annoying dock-master. “If you’d wandered in overland, it probably wouldn’t matter. But if they’ve wrapped the port up in this tangled a web of bureaucracy, someone might be paying attention to passenger manifests. Likely not the king, no. But someone.”

Alibaba bent his head, feeling sheepish. “Right. I owe you.”

“Tch. We have a deal. It’d be a lousy one for both of us if you didn’t make it back out of port.” Jahan stretched up on tiptoes a moment, peering at white-clad figures sauntering out of the dawn fog. “Ah. And now the captain will deal with the real port authorities.”

_The real-?_ Alibaba peered through the mist, and froze. Thick locks of dark hair. Narrow yellow eyes, sly as a fox. Taller, older, but the same dangerous smirk, as he led no less than ten of his gang to the foot of the _Shadow_ ’s gangplank.

_Cassim!_

“Captain Aden.” Cassim’s tone gave the title a wry twist. “I was beginning to think you didn’t want to see us again.”

“Really.” Aden’s hand was on a harpoon. His wasn’t the only one. “Shove off, you thief. The dock-master’s already plucked us bare. We can’t afford your rates.”

_They’re still talking_. Alibaba hung back in the shadows. _This isn’t a fight. Yet_.

But it was going to be. He could see the crazy gleam in Cassim’s eyes. That was the hungry gleam, the one that said, _my gang is starving, and you have what I want_.

Three years, and he still remembered that look.

“Oh, I think you’ll find we’re cheap, at the price.” Cassim waved a lazy hand. “After all, you’ve still got something to trade. It’d be a shame if-”

_Break his rhythm. Now!_ “Captain Aden!”

Behind him, Alibaba heard Jahan’s bitten-off curse.

_No time to explain_. “Captain.” Alibaba pulled back his hood, walking across the shifting deck to the rail by Aden’s side. “The organ meat from the island whale’s perishable, even with oil on it. The faster we get it to the market and sold, the more we all make.” One heartbeat, so the gang could focus on that prized word, _meat_. “I think you could use some extra hands taking it up to town. If they didn’t want to be paid in Fan, but maybe some of the casks that need to be cooked today, if they’re going to be any good.”

Eyes were staring at him. Not just Cassim. There was one-eyed Hassan, Zainab fingering a cigar tucked into her bosom, and at least three or four more he vaguely knew from his time on the streets.

_But Cassim’s still the leader. Good_.

“Alibaba.” Cassim was looking him up and down; in shock or calculation, Alibaba couldn’t tell. “It’s been a long time.”

_Better count on calculation_ , Alibaba thought, wary. And sad. “It has.” He glanced at Aden. “What do you think?”

What Aden looked like he was thinking wasn’t fit for ears Aladdin’s age. “Do your rats even know how to work, Cassim?”

“Captain Aden!” Alibaba made sure he bristled before Cassim could. If Cassim lost it, someone would get killed. “They’re family.”

That stopped both sides in their tracks. Good.

“Family.” Aden sounded like that was a bigger shock than the island whale.

“Always,” Alibaba said firmly. “I’ve seen you both lead. I know you can make a good deal.” He paused. “After all, once we figure out how to slip past a few regulations, the _Shadow_ might have more cargoes to move. And maybe you wouldn’t be the only ones.”

Now Cassim was giving him a look of disbelief. But Hassan frowned, doubtful, and Zainab’s eyes were just a little wider with hope....

And Cassim was a good leader, no matter what crimes he led his gang into. He took in the shifting mood with a glance, and faced Aden squarely. “One-third of the cargo moved.”

“Pirate!” But Aden’s tone was speculative, not hateful. “One in fifteen, and that’s scraping the hide off me.”

“Three out of ten,” Cassim scowled. “You’re swimming in whale fat, I can smell it.”

“The man would skin a pig and sell it back the hide,” Aden _hmph_ ed. “One of twelve.”

“Two of ten.” Cassim’s hand didn’t twitch toward his blade. “Sea-rat.”

“One of ten, and that’s final!”

“One of _eight_ , and _that’s_ final,” Cassim bit out. “And we get started _now_.”

_Before any guards can catch on and drag in the lot of us_ , Alibaba filled in.

“Done,” Aden scowled, holding out a weathered hand.

“Done,” Cassim said curtly, shaking it. “All right, people. We have _honest work_.” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “Let’s not screw it up.”

“Not you,” Aden said plainly, hand leaving the harpoon. “Family ought to talk.”

Alibaba traded a glance with the gang-leader, with just a twitch of a shrug. _He wants a hostage so your gang doesn’t just run off with half after it’s unloaded_.

Cassim grinned. _Yeah. You’d think he doesn’t know port rats can swim_.

Solomon. That he could read that in Cassim’s face, when he hadn’t had a clue what would happen that horrible night....

Alibaba braced himself, and turned to Jahan. “Sir. Could we borrow your cabin? We really need to talk.”

* * *

“So you call him sir.”

Alibaba leaned against the cabin door, and tried not to sigh. Or panic. “He’s the senior merchant on this trip. Yes, I call him sir.”

Cassim slouched against the bunk, eyes flicking over everything valuable in sight. “You like him.”

“I tend to like people who haul me out of a sea full of sharks.” Alibaba tried for a smile. “How are things? How’s Miriam?”

“Miriam’s dead.”

Cold. Like a wind off the desert before dawn. Alibaba had to stare at him, how could Cassim be this cold-

Cassim was crying.

“It was... after you went away. A plague hit the slums. They locked us in, we couldn’t get any medicine, the nobles wouldn’t risk their fat asses and help-!”

Alibaba wanted to break down and wail. This was Miriam. Their sister.

_Miriam was dead the night he met me. And he said she was fine_.

Tears streaked hot down Alibaba’s cheek. It was hard to think.

_But I have to_.

Cassim’s hands fell on his shoulders, dragging him close. “Come with me, Alibaba. We need you - I need someone I can trust!”

Alibaba shivered. “I can’t.”

“Can’t?” That was a tear-stained growl. “If you think you’ve got a deal with this Jahan-!”

“It’s not about that!” Alibaba gripped Cassim’s hand, heart racing. “You need ships coming in. A lot more ships.”

“Ships!” Cassim shook him. “The nobles are grinding us into the dirt, and you’re worried about ships?”

“Yes, I am!” Barkakk’s lessons let Alibaba slip out from under strong hands, even as he grabbed the pouch of Desert Tears he’d planned to use as a sample. “Cassim, look.”

“Pretty.” Cassim’s lip curled as Alibaba poured out a small pile of shimmering blue-green onto the little stand hanging from the bulkhead. “We can’t eat beads.”

“Don’t think of them as beads,” Alibaba said firmly. “Think of them as cargo. Look. Say this pile is the _Shadow_ ’s cargo. Here’s what the dock-master took in fees.” He swept aside about a tenth. “Here’s what you took.” Another portion, swept off to the other side. “And here’s what the nobles will take when the cargo hits the market.” A third smaller pile. “That leaves this much,” Alibaba tapped the shrunken mound in the middle, “for everybody who’s just trying to get by.”

Cassim opened his mouth to speak. Closed it again, squinting at the piles.

“People in the market,” Alibaba went on. “The crew. Everybody who gets a piece of reselling or more business because what the _Shadow_ brought in let them sell something else. You can steal more from the nobles,” Alibaba shoved some from the nobles’ pile to Cassim’s, a whisper of wood and the faint green-and-sand scent of a desert oasis. “But that doesn’t make the pile any bigger.”

Cassim snarled. “At least we can hurt them-”

“You want to hurt them? Really hurt them?” Alibaba said pointedly. “Then look at this. What happens when you get two cargoes in? Or three?” He poured out two more small piles of beads, and stepped back, daring Cassim to split them up the same way.

Cassim didn’t take the dare. “More cargo means the nobles grind _more_ out of us.”

“Sure. And then you steal some of it back. And in the meantime, there’s more for _everyone else_.” Alibaba met that fox’s gaze, determined. “Want to know what I saw a month ago? I saw the noble in charge of Qishan _crack_. Like an eggshell. You know what did it? One kid. One kid telling him he _wasn’t special_.”

Cassim started.

“Cassim, if you want to hurt these guys, then we need to get people on their feet, trading. So the nobles know _we don’t need them_. They’re not special. _That’s_ what will hurt the bastards.” Alibaba drew in an unsteady breath. “If you want to take down the nobles, if you want to help your people, then we need to hit them where they notice it. In the coin pouch.”

Cassim stared at the separate piles. Reached out one finger, spinning a Desert Tear around and around.

_I’ve said all I can. If he won’t listen to this_ -

“Are you telling me,” and that was a laugh in Cassim’s voice, tear-strained and thick but almost a giggle anyway, “you want to get people trading so I can steal more?”

_I’m still crying_ , Alibaba realized, swiping away tears. _Why am I still crying?_ “It... kind of works out that way?”

* * *

_Laughter is a good sign_ , Jahan thought, listening at the bulkhead in the next cabin over. _I hope_.

Bahir had one ear pressed to wood right beside him; the cook could be spared from unloading the cargo into gang hands, the captain couldn’t. And Aden trusted the older man’s galley-tested calm and good sense.

He’d needed both of them. Jahan’s own brows had shot skyward when Alibaba had outlined a plan to increase trade so Cassim had richer purses to pluck....

_Then again, that young gangster’s not afraid of hard work; not the way his subordinates buckled down and started hauling_ , Jahan reflected. _But with the port’s throat half-cut, there hasn’t been work to be had - hard or easy_.

Well, at least he was sure of one thing. By blood, training, or sheer blind luck, Alibaba had his father’s gift: find the ground your customer stood on, and reach him there.

_Help me, help the city, help yourself_ , Jahan thought. _But the way he hit Alibaba, with the girl’s death... that man needs watching_.

Especially if Alibaba was Rashid’s true son. For a king, Saluja had had a tender heart. Oh, he’d hidden it well in politics and commerce, but he’d had it just the same. The tales he’d told of helping a young Sinbad get started, when the dungeon-capturer had proven he could take a loss as just a lesson to learn, and that he could find ways to make a profit no one else had dreamed of....

_‘They’re coming out’_ , Bahir mouthed.

So it sounded, from the whisper of cloth and quiet footsteps. Jahan busied himself away from the bulkhead, looking at a map of the winds from the Oasis cities down to Balbadd in case Cassim was wary enough to force the door.

_Though if he suspects that much, no crewman who ventures into an alley is likely to leave it with their throat uncut_.

Bahir waited by the cabin door, good ear cocked and listening. Peered through a crack between water-warped boards, and finally nodded.

Rolling the map back up to tuck into his sleeve, Jahan opened the door to a lingering trace of cigar smoke. Rested his gaze on Alibaba. The prince was leaning against the passageway bulkhead, face still pale and glittering with tears.

_His hands are shaking_.

“Hear what you needed?” Alibaba managed.

“It sounded interesting,” Jahan nodded.

“Interesting.” Bahir shook his head, and headed down the passageway. “Merchant-adventurers. You’re all crazy.”

Jahan watched the cook reach the ladder, climbing up and out onto the deck to bring his words to Captain Aden. “You know he’s a thief.”

“Thief, robber, grifter, maybe worse- I know, I know.” Alibaba wouldn’t look at him. “But if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be alive.” Now he raised his head. “He knows who’s hurting. Who’s starving. The deal Aden made - kids are going to be alive because of that.”

That... honestly hadn’t occurred to him, Jahan admitted to himself. Starving wasn’t common in the islands. There were always fish to be had. At least, as long as the salamander kraits weren’t knotted around the nets again. Thank Solomon the fiery sea-snakes tended not to mind a gentle prod to get them _off_ the ships.

_But not here. There’s too many people, and not nearly enough boats. Not with the docks clamped down the way they are_. Jahan sighed. “Well, at least he still doesn’t know who you are-”

“He knows.”

That wasn’t good. “How?” Jahan said neutrally.

“I told him. When... they came to take me away,” Alibaba said quietly. “He and Miriam - they were the only family I had. I didn’t want to leave them.” He rubbed tears off his face with the heel of his hands. “You should get to the markets while it’s still early.”

_And leave you here like this? That wouldn’t be good for anyone_. “I could use another pair of eyes to help me look,” Jahan stated. “I have a feeling it’s going to be tricky finding good trade goods here, and getting them onboard with - a minimum of bother, shall we say?”

“And you don’t want me wandering off down dark alleys?” A wry smile twitched Alibaba’s lips. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning to go drinking with Cassim again.”

Again. That sounded like a story, and a painful one.

_Cassim. Balbadd’s most dangerous gang-leader._

_How did Balbadd’s third prince end up as his foster-brother?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all that Partevia is supposed to be more or less based on ancient Persia, the sword Drakon uses in canon is nothing like the curved swords or short daggers they historically used. A _firangi_ is, historically, an Indian sword made with a Western European blade or in that style; it looked fairly close to what Drakon uses, including the point meant for stabbing. I’m hoping it’s close enough. :) 
> 
> Island whales are canonically part of the Voyages of Sinbad in the original Arabian Nights, so I felt free to throw one in here. Granted, it’s a lot more active than the lore version.... 
> 
> For Jahan - think an older (human-version) Drakon in appearance. 
> 
> Merhdad: "Gift of Sun/ Sun of Justice / Gift of Love". Persian name.


	3. Why did it have to be snakes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For want of a nail.... 
> 
> AKA, in which Alibaba proves that Decorum is something that happens to anybody else. There is fire involved. Also snakes.

_So much green_. Alibaba had to stop on Krait Island’s pier and just look. It was so different from the dusty alleys of Balbadd.

It gnawed at him, not being there. Knowing that Cassim probably _wasn’t_ lying, not about everything; if anyone needed someone he could trust, Cassim did....

_But Balbadd’s dying. Our people are dying and - I’m a_ lousy _thief. Cassim knows that. But I know trade! I can do this._

_...I hope_.

And there were other reasons. Make that one scary, annoying, innocent-knife-hijacking reason.

_Amon_. Alibaba’s fingers drifted toward steel. _If I stuck around in Balbadd - I know Cassim. He probably got two or three of the crew drunk and got the whole story_.

At least as much as the _Shadow_ ’s crew knew: that he was carrying a Magic Tool that called fire, and that it was strong enough to put an island whale down, permanently.

_But that was do or die. I don’t know how to handle this! I_ can’t _practice in Balbadd - there’s too many things that could burn!_

At least on the islands, he could always take a boat out into the sea to practice. Amon might not like it, Alibaba could feel a sort of annoyed _hmph_ at the thought of _all that water_ \- but better safe than sorry.

_And I’m still not hot_. Alibaba drew in a muggy breath, feeling the sea air wrap around him like a silk blanket. _Wish I knew how to control even that much. If people see me hugging fires in this weather- I don’t want them to think I’m_....

He didn’t even know what they’d think.

_Does it matter what they think?_ Pack weighing heavy on his shoulders, Alibaba made himself pick up one foot, then the other. A few more steps, and he’d be on Krait Island, home to Jahan’s daughter Sindukht, her husband Beniel, and what Jahan had gleefully described as a small barbarian horde of merchant offspring. _I’m not staying. I’m just... going to figure something out to help fix Balbadd_.

If it could be fixed. If Abhmad really had traded away the marine rights-

_Then we take them back! He didn’t have that right; no king of Balbadd ever has the right to hurt her people. We’re kings to protect those rights, not sell them!_

Not that he was a king. Ever. He just... had to do something.

“Don’t look so worried.” Jahan strode off onto the shore, pack on his own back holding samples of goods even as Aden’s men offloaded the rest of what he and Jahan intended to sell or disperse to other vessels here. “They’ll like you.”

“They’ll like the beads,” Alibaba muttered.

“Those, too.” Jahan smirked. “Watch your step. We don’t get that many salamander kraits this far from the flame vents, but once in a while they’ll come onshore looking for fish. They’d rather not bite you - but no one likes being stepped on.”

Alibaba glanced around for any sign of the blue-and-black sea-snakes Jahan had described, and followed, shoes crunching on the bleached shells tamped down into walking paths through the riot of island greenery. Palms, vines he were pretty sure had to be sea-grapes sprawling over trees and bushes; thorny green-leafed shrubs bearing tart yellow shore-plums. Morning glories and a half-dozen blooms he didn’t recognize thronged the hedgerows between gardens and dwellings, and all of that looked good, but.... “Where are the grain-fields?”

“Inland.” Jahan gave him an interested look. “Wheat and salt air aren’t the best mix. Marsh rice does well here, though.”

“And lotus?” Alibaba asked, dragging up lessons he hadn’t needed in years.

“Unless we’ve had a lot of overwash, yes.” Jahan’s brow arched a bit higher.

Alibaba flushed. “I never got to see the islands. It was easier to remember what they brought to market if I could taste it.”

“My grandchildren would probably agree with you.” Jahan shaded his eyes. “Brace yourself.”

_Oh boy_.

The swarm of village kids wasn’t quite as bad as a bandit raid. Almost as lethal, though. At least if he tried to move. There were kids everywhere, from just about toddling to a few old enough to apprentice, taking advantage of the _Shadow_ ’s arrival to steal time off from whatever they were supposed to be doing.

_No one’s starving here_ , Alibaba thought, seeing decent flesh on young cheekbones, and no one with obvious ribs. _Maybe a few hungry days here and there, but not starving._

_Why can’t Balbadd’s streets look like this?_

“Grandpa Jahan!” A girl no older than Aladdin tackled the merchant around the knees. “You’ve been away _forever!_ ”

“Well, well.” Jahan lurched forward as if the girl were made of iron weights. “Is this Dina? No, no, it couldn’t be my granddaughter Dina, she was only _this_ big....” He held his thumb and forefinger a bit apart, grinning.

“I _was not!_ ” Dina scowled up at him, dark hair with just a trace of green tint, eyes a warm amber-brown like dark grain. “Mom wants to know if you brought home another stray. She says you probably aren’t feeding him enough.” She cast a glance at Alibaba where he was trying to wade through younger littles. “What’s his name?”

Alibaba managed a side-step around one of the more persistent toddlers, giving the mother who came to pick him up a sheepish shrug. “I’m-”

“Let’s talk to your parents about that,” Jahan cut him off. “They really ought to greet a guest properly.”

_Oh no_. But he couldn’t wade through the kids very fast, and he couldn’t exactly yell at Jahan not to use his name, not with all these little ears....

Alibaba let out a resigned sigh, and started calculating where he might be able to borrow a skiff and head for another island. Any other island.

* * *

“That wasn’t very nice of you, Father.” Well after dinner, Sindukht handed Jahan a bit of honey-sweetened lemon water; with a splash of something stronger, from the hint of smoke he could taste. “Whoever he really is, you scared him half out of his wits.”

“Oh, he really is Alibaba,” Jahan said easily, lounging back in a light wicker chair to glance up at the family loft. By now all the youngsters should be sound asleep, worn out by the excitement of strangers and the plain work of unloading parts of the _Shadow_ ’s cargo. Even one wary blond youngster. “That’s just not all his name.”

Beniel traded a glance with his wife, then sipped his own mug. “It isn’t?”

Heh. Which was almost enough clue in and of itself, Jahan acknowledged. Most people in Balbadd didn’t use family names; a custom formed from centuries of people showing up in ports to lose wherever they’d been from, and try to make a new life outside other nations. Only outsiders and born Balbadd nobles were different.

“You need to know the risks.” Jahan set his mug down on the table, long habit avoiding the knife-scar from one particularly vehement argument over a proposed trade voyage. “I’m certain, in the past, you recall crossing account ledgers with... merchant Harun.”

Beniel sat up straight. “Another of his trade strays? He must have been young, to be in the business before- Well.”

“Very young.” Sindukht’s eyes narrowed, judging her father with a Partevian noblewoman’s trained martial calculation. “The son of a stray?”

“Not exactly.” Jahan hesitated; until now, it’d only been himself and Aden at risk, everyone else could swear they knew nothing-

_But if something does go wrong, innocence will not protect them_. “His name is Alibaba. Alibaba Saluja.”

“The third son?” Beniel pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. “That’ll put the hawk among the chickens-”

But it was Sindukht that Jahan was watching, seeing amber eyes blaze in the noble pride none of his family had ever lost. “Where has he _been?_ ”

“Running like hell was after him,” Jahan said flatly. “It may well have been. I don’t doubt, whatever really happened that night, that Abhmad was all too ready to put all the blame on Alibaba’s shoulders. It was rumored around the court that Rashid planned to write him out as heir, remember? Even if General Barkakk was backing him, a fourteen-year-old raised half his life on the streets would have a hard time staying alive in a court viper’s nest. Especially with the people Abhmad drew in that last year.”

Reluctantly, Sindukht nodded.

“So the question isn’t why he ran,” Beniel mused. “It’s why he stopped.”

Solomon, but Jahan was glad his daughter had fallen for such a practical man. “Did you know there was a dungeon in the Oasis City of Qishan? Amon, by name.”

Beniel blinked, and gave him a long look. “Was?”

“Was,” Jahan smiled.

Sindukht’s hand found her husband’s, fingers rubbing the back of strong knuckles in mutual reassurance. “The _Shadow_ ’s crew was spreading rumors of fire magic today. I thought possibly someone had just gotten a Magic Tool.”

“That’s what Aden and I told them,” Jahan stated, relieved. “The last thing any of us need is for Balbadd to learn there’s a Dungeon Capturer in their midst.”

“He really should be king, then,” Beniel said quietly. “King Rashid was right all along.”

“Hmm.” Jahan took a hand off his mug to waggle it back and forth. “Right now, he might be a worse disaster than Abhmad. A king has to be confident. Determined. Decisive.” He pondered that. “But you should have seen his face in Balbadd’s port. He may not be determined for himself; not yet. But he’ll be damned if he lets _that_ go on unchallenged.”

Sindukht took a deep drink of her own. “You want to help him.”

“What I want,” Jahan decided, “is to give him a little time to breathe. And think. He has the beginnings of a plan, I can feel it. If it’s a good plan, then I think we should back him. He means to bring trade back to Balbadd and that will mean profit for everyone. If it’s a bad plan... then perhaps we can help him come up with a better one.”

“He does have a Djinn,” Beniel pointed out.

“You do remember those tales of Sinbad getting himself into hot water?” Jahan said dryly. “Having awesome magical power at your fingertips doesn’t solve everything. It doesn’t even solve most things. Especially if you have no idea what you’re doing.” And speaking of that.... “No one’s gone crazy and tried to mine the flame vents lately, have they?”

Beniel snorted. “No.”

“Good,” Jahan nodded. “Then I think we should point him that way tomorrow. If anything Sinbad said was true, he needs somewhere to practice that magic. Preferably before word spreads enough that some idiot decides to challenge him.”

Beniel leaned back, considering that. “You really think he has an idea to help.”

“You should have seen him bristle when the dock-master mentioned Kou holds Balbadd’s marine rights.” Jahan couldn’t keep from growling at the thought. “I think he decided to be a smuggler then and there.”

Caught mid-sip, Beniel choked.

“A smuggler?” Sindukht blinked.

“It’s... not untraditional for a Balbadd royal,” her husband managed, still coughing a bit. “We haven’t had a pirate king in over a century, but....”

“It’s drastic, but if the Kou Empire is serious about forcing everyone to trade with their Fan, we may have no choice,” Jahan stated. “We’re merchants. We live and die by how good our stock is, and how much our customers can trust us to deliver sound, gold-solid quality. Paper? I don’t like it. And given what’s happened to Balbadd ashore, I don’t trust it.” He met his kin’s gaze. “So. Tell me everything you can about this Fan, and the Empire. We _all_ need to have a plan.”

* * *

Flames licked into the sky in this secluded cove; thin, translucent tongues of yellow, orange, and pale blue. The rocks and surf they hissed from were dark with salty smoke, then shrouded white with a wisp of steam. And almost blending into the dark crags, blue-scaled bodies lazed in flame like living ropes of azure and onyx.

Alibaba stared at what had to be the biggest nest of basking salamander kraits anywhere, and wondered if they could feel his heart pounding harder than the waves. “They’re lethal, right?”

“If they bite you? Most of the time,” Jahan agreed. “They’re very good-natured, though. For snakes. I’ve seen my own grandchildren pick them up to play with them. Which has earned them all a swat or two.” He _hmph_ ed. “Gentle never means safe. If they think you’re trying to eat them they will bite.”

And people did kill them, Alibaba knew, for the rare scales that let fire flow off them like rain. Rare, valuable skins, almost never seen; though looking at the living creatures now, he recognized the same patterns as the silky gray lining inside Jahan’s over-tunic. No wonder the man hadn’t been afraid to pluck him out of the ocean, flames or not. “Why are you letting me see this?”

“A secret for a secret,” Jahan shrugged. “If the wrong ears heard it, your name might be as deadly as their venom.” The old merchant smiled. “Besides. You need to practice. And let you throw fire around near the kitchen gardens? I’d never hear the end of it!” He waved at shore, sea, unimpressed kraits. “You won’t burn anything here.”

“Practice.” Alibaba tasted that word like it was in Tran; foreign, and filled with shades of meaning he might never suspect until it was too late. “The Sinbad stories didn’t say anything about practice.”

“Of course not; the man sprang full-formed from the heavens with perfect command of earth-shaking magic,” Jahan said dryly. “Or so some of the stories would say. Sinbad is a man, young prince. An impressive one. A powerful one. Clever enough to become king of a new nation; too clever by half, sometimes. I’ve heard he even pulled a trick or two on your father at the bargaining table, and that took doing. But he is a man.”

Maybe. Alibaba wasn’t sure. The stories were- Well. Amazing.

But whatever Sinbad was, he had to clear one thing up. “I’m not a prince.” Alibaba gave Jahan a determined smile. “I don’t even know if I’m a good merchant yet. I did okay as a caravan driver... well, I did until we ran into that desert hyacinth. Then I... managed to get myself in really deep debt....”

“Desert hyacinth?” Jahan frowned. “The man-eater of the oasis deserts?”

“You can get them drunk on enough wine,” Alibaba nodded. “But it takes a lot of wine.”

Jahan apparently added that to _deep debt_ , and came up with something that made him smile. “You’ll have to tell me that story someday. But I suspect your father would have done much the same.” He bowed, the short nod of an elder to apprentice, and turned to walk off.

“Wait!” Alibaba protested. “Where are you going?”

“I’m flammable,” Jahan waved off his objections. “And my Sindukht might be a seamstress, but she knows a good carver. They might have some ideas for that jasper of yours.” He raised a hand, as if struck by a sudden thought. “Oh, and if you really annoy them while you’re out of biting range, sometimes they spit fire.” A cheery wave. “Don’t worry. If you’re not back by sunset, we’ll come looking for you.”

Oh. Great.

Still, Jahan had a point. If he got into a situation where he needed to call up Amon’s fire again-

_Right, and how likely is that? I went most of my life without ever running into desert hyacinths, dungeon monsters, or man-eating island whales!_

And then a magi had turned up in his wagon eating someone else’s watermelon, and everything had gone crazy from there.

_I... might not ever need it again?_

Except Cassim _already knew he had it_ , and there was no way his old foster-brother was going to ignore that kind of power.

_The crew knows. And eventually other people are going to figure it out_ , Alibaba told himself. _If they think I don’t know what I’m doing, they’ll try to take it for themselves_.

On the one hand, he’d be kind of relieved if someone took a magical weapon like this off his hands... but it wasn’t just a weapon, was it? Amon was a person. A cranky, scowly, annoyed, incredibly powerful Djinn - but a person.

_And he decided to come with me, Solomon only knows why. Least I can do is try to make sure he doesn’t end up with someone he’d hate_.

_Besides, it looked like he and Ugo are friends. And I owe Ugo a lot_.

Though Aladdin would probably say friends didn’t owe each other. He was Ugo’s friend, and Alibaba’s friend, and what else would real friends do?

_If Aladdin didn’t make it back to Qishan - he might be in trouble. And if he’s in the kind of trouble even Ugo can’t get him out of... he might need me_.

Which made Alibaba take a breath, and square his shoulders. He really couldn’t see using Amon’s fire on people. Brrr. But the kind of trouble Aladdin found? That was a good reason.

“Okay,” Alibaba breathed, drawing his knife. “Let’s try this. _Sacred servant of austerity and decorum_....”

Odd; now that he knew what magoi meant he thought he could _feel_ the strength draining from him to steel. Not a lot, just like breaking into a run from standing still, but it was starting to pull harder-

Fire roared.

_Oh man what am I doing this is too much-!_

It was like a dust-devil made of flames, spiraling overhead as if it sought to reach the sun. It yanked on him, like iron chains dragging the breath from his lungs.

_Stop!_

Fire puffed out. Alibaba fell to one knee, panting for breath. And froze. “...Hi there.”

Half-coiled on damp sand a foot away, a salamander krait flicked its tongue at him.

Alibaba stared into those silvery-gray eyes, trying to read any hint of irritation, or possibly hunger. Not that he should be small enough to qualify as prey, but who knew how this snake was... thinking....

_Uh-oh_.

The krait wasn’t alone. There were at least a half-dozen more, slithered out of waves and flames to gather around sand still warm from Amon’s summons.

_Well... at least I’m not going to hurt them?_ He still didn’t feel hot, but Alibaba knew he was sweating. _Would be nice if they weren’t this close, though_ -

Something nudged him, deep in his heart; a feeling of flames and deliberate patience.

_Again. Amon wants_ \- Alibaba gulped, and raised the knife once more. _Okay. Let’s try this, just - a little less fire, we’re not trying to signal ships out to sea!_

The incantation rolled off his tongue again - and didn’t stop. There was something else, something more-

_“Amol Berka!”_

Flames followed the slice of his blade down; a wall of fire that shoved away scaled forms like the push of a scolding hand.

_Out_ , Alibaba thought, managing to stay on his feet this time. Oof. He wasn’t as out of it as he’d been after the island whale, but the world was a little fuzzy around the edges....

_Amon can feed on fire_.

He didn’t think about it; just walked past still-startled kraits and stepped up to the nearest flame, focused on that welcome warmth. The Seal glowed... but the fire wasn’t going out, not this time.

_Something’s... flowing to it?_

Something there and not-there; like a heat-shimmer and the bright birds of power around Aladdin, all at once. Fine as threads of silk, yet-

_This is the strength to melt mountains_.

Which was a scary, scary thought. He didn’t want to melt mountains. He just... wanted to be sure he knew what he was doing.

Something bumped against his ankle, almost like a chick poking to see if he’d stirred up a cricket.

Alibaba glanced down at a tiny bright blue head, and made himself hold very, very still.

A small, dark tongue flicked at him. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear the little krait was snickering at him.

_Don’t bother them, you said_ , Alibaba thought wryly, as more of the kraits slithered his way. Or toward the flame, he wasn’t quite sure. _Don’t make them think you want to eat them, you said. Let them alone, they’ll leave you alone. Jahan, when I get out of this-!_

Heat bloomed against his back, and he couldn’t think. He’d backed right into the vent, he was on _fire_ -

It was like Ugo’s hand had closed on his shoulder, holding him steady when all he could do was panic. Only the hand was on his heart, in his mind; a sense of rueful exasperation, and patience.

.... _I’m not burning_.

The edge of his cloak had a suspicious darkness, but no more. Flames were parting around the cloth, just as they parted for the salamander kraits.

Alibaba gulped, even as he felt Amon’s presence lift; apparently convinced his bearer was not going to panic and kill himself this time. _Going to sit down now_.

He had to gently push aside two kraits to get room to do it. And the dark rocks were really not comfortable. But he was alive, and not burning, and taking a few minutes to just breathe sounded like a really good idea.

_This is magic_.

Nothing as awesome and frightening as the lightning strikes or howling blizzards out of the Sinbad stories. But just sitting here, unharmed, in the midst of venom and fire....

_This is amazing_. Alibaba took a breath; wondering at how he could taste the simmering heat of the air, yet none of it reached fragile lungs. _Aladdin can do magic. Could he do this? Because that would be awesome_.

He could see it in his mind’s eye; the pair of them sitting together in the flames, Aladdin down on his elbows to look the kraits in the eye with a smile that saw all the wonder in the world.

_He’d love to see this_. Alibaba bent down to look at every flame-wreathed crack of rock and gap of flames, storing up the sight to tell Aladdin everything. Lumpy kraits lying along the edges of fire as they slept off meals of fish; others coiled alert atop silken gold cocoons in the heart of the flames. Crusts of pale pink salt where the sea had splashed against the fires, a flutter of thin gray scales....

_Shed skins?_

* * *

_Long, long day_ , Alibaba thought much later, heading through the village to Jahan’s family house. At least he knew this time the odd looks he was getting had nothing to do with any trace of a cool breeze. No one was getting close enough to feel it.

_Good. Because this is kind of ridiculous_. “Madam Sindukht,” Alibaba called out at the doorway, definitely not venturing inside toward that swarm of awed young eyes. “Do you have a small fish you wouldn’t mind getting rid of?”

“Alibaba, what on earth-?” The lady of the house stepped out of the doorway, youngster in arm, and stared.

Alibaba reddened, knowing what he looked like. Ends of his hair crisped. One edge of his rolled-up cloak dark with heat. Bits of sand and dried sea-salt clinging where he hadn’t been able to brush it all away. And most daunting of all, a six-foot salamander krait coiled smugly over his shoulders, tongue occasionally flicking near his earrings.

Gently, not shifting his arm more than he had to, Alibaba pointed a thumb at lazy scales. “I’m hoping I can bribe her off with a fish.”

From the stifled noise behind her hand, Sindukht wasn’t sure whether to shriek or break down laughing.

“Oh, wow!” Dina stared up at him. “Grandpa is going to yell at you _so hard_.”

“I bet he will,” Alibaba agreed ruefully. “I just leaned against a rock, honest.”

Dina waved a scolding finger, just like her mother. “He’s going to yell at you _so much_.”

“Dina, go get one of the crab baitfish.” From the giggly tremors in her voice as Dina ran off, the lady really was trying not to laugh. “You leaned on a rock? The older females usually don’t leave the water unless they’re going straight to a flame vent.”

“The rock might have been on fire,” Alibaba admitted.

“It might have been-” Sindukht covered her eyes with her hand, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Oh, now those stories of Father’s make sense....”

“What stories?” Alibaba asked warily, glancing around at what seemed to be a third of the whole village finding excuses to drift into view and gawk. Darn it. But he couldn’t walk inside with a krait on his shoulders. Jahan’s family would never hear the end of it.

“Oh, just wait. I’m sure he’ll tell you.” Sindukht smiled down at her oldest daughter, who’d just run back brandishing a dried fish with dark spots and flaky flesh that had obviously seen better days. “All right, you two take Alibaba’s friend down to the water and convince her to eat and run. Don’t go in the water yourselves. Just let her swim away.”

_“Yay!”_

Shaking his head, Alibaba followed Dina away from the main harbor, down to a bit of shore too rocky to easily launch boats from. Crouched down, carefully, and held out his hand for the fish.

It took a few minutes, and many tongue-flicks at the faded scent of dried fish flesh. But eventually the krait slid off his shoulders to a tide-slick boulder, gulping down the fish as her rightful due.

“Dina, your mother said-” Jahan stopped in a crunch on the path, whistling low and worried. “There had better be a good explanation for this.”

“I don’t know about _good_.” Beniel’s laugh held a sigh of relief, as the man watched the krait slip out to sea, safely away from his daughter. “But I’m sure it’ll be _interesting_.”

* * *

“Shed salamander krait skins.” Captain Aden stirred a finger through the silky gray lengths Alibaba had had bundled in his cloak, rousing a rustle like soft leaves. “They’re not fireproof....”

“But they are fire-resistant,” Jahan observed, watching the captain and his houseguest at the family meeting table with equal interest. “And you don’t have to take your chances with angry venom to get them. If you can get through the flames in the first place.”

“I saw the lining of your over-tunic,” Alibaba said honestly. “I thought they might be useful.”

“Oh, yes,” Aden grumbled; an interested grumble, for once. Winced, and shifted a foot in his sandal. “If you know how to sew them right. So you can walk through fires now?”

A hint of red touched Alibaba’s face. “Little ones?” The young man saw Sindukht squeeze Beniel’s hand in silent amusement, and blushed harder.

_Shy_ , Jahan realized, almost shaking his head. _If there’s one thing I didn’t expect of a child of the slums or a prince, it’s that_.

A merchant had to get past being shy, one way or another. Or at least learn to fake it. “Just walking through fires won’t save Balbadd,” Jahan stated. “If you think you have an idea, Alibaba - Captain Aden’s a man who’d know who might risk it.”

“We all have a stake in this,” Beniel said quietly. “Speak your piece.”

Panic flashed in gold eyes. But the young man mastered it, even if his hands were pale-knuckled as they gripped the table. “We need to get trade going in Balbadd. We need to take it back from the Kou Empire, and get it into the hands of our own people. That won’t be easy.” Alibaba shook his head. “If they went so far as to claim the marine rights, then they’re not going to want to back off.” He met Aden’s gaze. “They’re the enemy. Just as much as if they had spears at our throats. And I don’t know much about them. What do you know?”

“Hmm.” Aden held down one end of the map Sindukht unrolled. Drew a finger up from Balbadd north and east, to the roughed-out coastline beyond the great central desert. “They used to be three small kingdoms to the north here, well before you were born. In the past years - maybe ten, maybe fifteen, depends who you ask - they’ve swept south like a forest fire. Some captains I know have gone over to the Empire and registered, and... a few of them, I don’t know anymore.” He shuddered. “I can’t explain it. They’re just _wrong_ , somehow.”

_Magic_ , Jahan thought, eyes narrowed. _I’ve seen it, around Sinbad’s enemies. So we’re not just facing noble idiots_.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sindukht and Beniel trade glances, and Alibaba’s knuckles tighten more. Good; they remembered the stories too.

“A lot more captains smell war in the air, and they’re sailing away from anywhere the Kou get interested,” Aden went on. “Balbadd’s the Empire’s next stop. They have swords, they have spears, they have the Fan... and they have Magic Tools.”

_Damn_. “You’re certain of that?” Jahan pounced.

“I haven’t seen it with my own eyes,” Aden allowed. “But I’ve had enough tales of Kou nobles dropping in on flying carpets and Kou soldiers being healed with miraculous water to think there must be some truth in them.” He raised a skeptical brow. “What, you think we should be worried about archers from the sky?”

“No.” Alibaba’s voice was almost calm; the sort of level tone that, from Rashid, would have meant he was very worried indeed. “We should be worried about their Dungeon Capturer and his Djinn.”

Aden started.

“It’s the most likely source,” Jahan agreed, worried himself. Not terrified, not yet - but worried, yes. “Sinbad sold many of the Tools he’d gained in Reim and Partevia to fund his company and his kingdom. But Kou’s on the other side of the continent. If they suddenly have Magic Tools, enough to use on common soldiers - someone in Kou has conquered a dungeon.” He would _not_ shiver. “Possibly more than one.”

“And if they did it ten years ago,” Alibaba added, “whoever got a Djinn latched onto them is has had almost as long as Sinbad to figure out what to do with it.”

Aden swayed back in his chair. “We can’t fight a Djinn-!”

“No, we can’t.” Alibaba wasn’t even watching the captain, intent on the map as if it might get away. “They’re not going to bring one into Balbadd. Not if they think they can win some other way first.”

“Oh?” Jahan drew out the word, trying to think past the sudden heart-clenching fear of an enemy with Sinbad’s power. It wasn’t easy.

“They’re after the trade routes.”

Aden rolled his eyes, and winced again; Sindukht frowned. “Yes, youngster, we knew that,” the captain growled. “It’s why they have that whole mess with the registry, and the Fan, and confiscating any coin that’s not theirs. You should have heard the dance I did with that leech of a dock-master to keep him from shaking us all upside-down for stray coppers-”

Alibaba shook his head, still staring at inked paper. “They’re after _Sindria_.”

Beniel glanced at his father-in-law.

Jahan had to shake his head. Rashid had been like this, too. He’d stare at something, or someone, and see what no one else had realized was there. “Tell us what you see.”

“Half Sindria’s trade used to come through us.” Alibaba traced from Balbadd to Reim, to Balbadd, to Sindria and points east, even to the Dark Continent. “I don’t know how bad it’s gotten, or how fast, but they’ve got to have noticed something’s wrong. And when something threatens Sindria....”

“Then the Generals come out to play,” Sindukht murmured. “Or even Sinbad himself.” She peered over the map, then met Jahan’s eyes, face grave. “A trap?”

“They’re wrecking our country and you think it’s just a trap?” Aden bit out.

Jahan stiffened, expecting the youngster to flinch-

“No. They’re wrecking our country to add to their empire.” Alibaba thumped a fist on the map, as if he could strike the Kou themselves. “But if they plan to keep taking over more kingdoms, if they’ve got a Djinn’s power - Sinbad’s one of the only kings who could stop them. They _want_ him to come looking. On their terms.”

Aden sagged in his chair, gray and worn. “Then we’ve already lost.”

“No!” Alibaba’s head snapped up, gold eyes bright with determination. “Balbadd’s not lost! We know what they’re after. That means we can stop them.”

Even Beniel looked at him askance. “You think we can stop people ready to take on Sinbad of Sindria.”

“Yes,” Alibaba insisted. “Because they’re _not_ ready to take him on. If they were they’d sail right into Sindria and fight. But they’re not. They think they’re being sneaky.” He shook his head. “And if they were just dealing with Abhmad, they’d be right. But they’re not going to face Balbadd’s nobles anymore. They’re going to face her people. And we’re born to be sneaky.” He grinned at Aden, sudden as sunlight. “Or am I not talking to one of the best smugglers in the islands?”

Aden looked him slowly up and down. Crossed his arms, but didn’t pull farther away. “I’m still not hearing a plan.”

Alibaba thumped his elbows on the table. Stared at the map.

Sindukht weighed the heavy gazes around the table, and rose. “All right, you’ve been fidgeting like a rooster with a sore talon. Let me see your foot, Aden.”

“It’s nothing-”

“Nothing that makes you want to bite our heads off.” She gestured toward his sandals.

“Bahir already looked at it,” the captain grumped, letting her manhandle his foot as he watched Alibaba. “Damn carpenters. With how much nails cost, you’d think they’d keep track of the cursed things....”

Alibaba glanced up, startled.

Aden growled under his breath. “Don’t tell me you’ve never stepped on a nail.”

“I haven’t,” Alibaba said, half to himself. “In the slums, you’d burn the boards to get them back; they were worth it. In the palace - I almost stepped on a gold nail once, from someone’s haircombs....”

Jahan eyed the youngster. Because that sounded frighteningly like an _idea_.

“Gold nails!” Aden let out a bark of laughter, wriggling his toes against Sindukht’s stubborn grip. “Why not? You’ll find more of those in Balbadd than gold _coins_ , these days. You want to start trade again, young prince? Well, good luck to you! It’s _impossible!_ The Fan is insane, and they won’t let you use anything else-”

“That’s two problems,” Alibaba objected, with an odd _precise_ edge to his posture that told Jahan the boy had to be remembering old court lessons. “ _And_ makes it two. The Fan is insane. They won’t let you use anything but the Fan in Balbadd.” He took a deep breath. “But everybody knows what a nail is worth.”

Sindukht dropped Aden’s foot.

Jahan couldn’t blame her. He felt as though he were standing on the edge of an abyss himself. “Use... nails.”

“They confiscate coins? Then we don’t bring coins.” Alibaba’s hands spread on the table, brushing the edge of the map as if it were fine silk. “In the slums, you might not see a coin for months. People traded anyway. People _want_ to trade. A good, straight nail could get us all dinner. People know what a nail is. _They can trust it_.”

Jahan traded glances with his family, wondering if they felt the same hope he did. A merchant had to live on coin, goods, and the tides, not hope....

_But Balbadd needs hope, first of all. Or nothing else we do will matter_.

“Nails.” Aden drummed his fingers on the table. “I need to think about this.”

Alibaba nodded. “Do that. See if I’m wrong. In the meantime - I need to get to Balbadd.”

“That’s a dangerous place for you,” Jahan objected.

“That’s why I need to go.” Alibaba’s fingers left the map, tracing woodgrain. “Cassim... Cassim needs help. And I need his help to find things out.”

“The knife-king of the alleys, and you need his help?” Aden said darkly.

“He’ll know, or he’ll know who we can talk into letting it slip.” Alibaba winced. “Or threaten into it. But we need to know.” He looked Jahan straight in the eye. “If the Kou Empire has the marine rights... what else do they have?”

* * *

The dream-strands were oddly organized, tonight.

Amon sorted through misty images and the ever-changing map of the world, noting the concentration on flows of iron and steel, reshaping copper and precious metals, a glimmering fall of sharp-pointed nails. Strange; what could this mean-?

_Amon?_

Amon raised intangible brows, listening. That wasn’t a conscious call....

_I think... the dreams are a way you ask me things, right?_ his king’s rukh whispered. _Not that you can answer back, unless I remember this in the morning.... I think I have a plan. Maybe. At least it’s a chance to fight. I wish I knew what you think_.

_Maybe it’ll work. Maybe I’m just dreaming. But... wanted you to know... today was amazing_.

Amon scowled, poking those glimmering bits of soul. Surely, they hadn’t tapped more than a fraction of his true power-

A shimmer of flames, warm without burning. Startlement, shock - and then the rueful giggle, as his king realized he was being used as a nice, warm rock to bask on. A wistful image of what-might-be, the hope of Aladdin with them, reaching out to touch snakes no ordinary mortal would poke on a dare.

Amon held his presence there, blinking in amazement. Mortal kings sought Djinn because they needed power. That was how dungeons worked.

Only from the way hope and flames and the flow of coins and silk were all woven together, this king thought _wonder_ was as important as power.

_And it is_ , Amon thought, recalling a world ages lost. _Lord Ugo and Aladdin - they gave us all the hope to keep going. To hold our sanctuaries firm, and save as many of our people as we could, until Lord Ugo could open the path to a living world._

_This is Aladdin’s chosen king_.

Young, yes. Not nearly as strong as he might wish; though the youngster was striving to gain in strength. Wary of the world, and all too aware there was so much he didn’t know.

But the core of his king was a hope that refused to die, and that - that could save worlds.

Amon nodded slowly, reluctantly decided. _Well. You have the courage. Let us see what else I can teach you._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still think Magi should have had more odd monsters and critters turning up than it did. So I invented the salamander kraits using some of the old concepts of salamanders (that they were unharmed by flames, not made of them) and drawing on Marco Polo’s speculation about salamander “wool” and skins - which we now have reason to believe were made of asbestos. The medieval salamander’s description as gold-and-black actually fits some of the sea snake color patterns out there, and given some of those species are calm enough that kids do play with them... it was fun. :)


	4. Let's go steal a country.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassim plays with fire.

Balbadd didn’t look any better the second time. Still the same few bedraggled fishing ships out in the harbor, one or two captains like Aden who’d decided to try their luck bringing in cargoes, Fan or no Fan-

And one ship Alibaba had never seen before, wood stained red-orange as lacquer, rails dark as ebony, and sails cut to a square that would founder in the wilder seas near Sindria.

_Don’t think I have to guess where that one’s from_.

Cassim slipped out of an alley like a shadow, fox eyes burning as he stared at the foreign sailors manning the rails. “Imperial merchant ship. Bringing in plenty of goods - if you’re a _noble_.”

“Is that what that ugly junk is.” Alibaba tapped one of the casks he’d offloaded, taking a whiff of the sweet raspberry scent. “So the court still has trade coming in while the rest of the city starves. That’s twisted.” He met that familiar gaze, hurting at the hate and pain lurking there. He’d just bet Cassim’s gang would try to torch that ship later tonight. Probably after robbing it down to the waterline. And damn it, he couldn’t blame them.

_It’s wrong. But they’re hurting. They need anything they can get - legal or not_.

If he could just give them a more legal option....“I brought some fruit off the islands,” Alibaba stated. “It doesn’t travel well, and it won’t last long. But it was cheap, and I figured if anyone knew where I could trade it fast for information....”

“Trade.” Yellow eyes narrowed.

“Trade,” Alibaba said firmly. Never mind how his gut twisted, or how much he wanted to say. He had to be strong, the way Cassim was. His brother would never listen if he wasn’t. “I know you’d rather steal than beg. I’m not offering either. You have information; I need it. I’ve got contacts with people willing to slip in here no matter what the laws say, and you need that.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t know if I can fix this, Cassim. But I’ve got an idea. And I know I can’t do it alone.”

“An idea.” Cassim was weighing him with a look, as if the gang-leader were utterly oblivious to Zainab’s dark scowl as she tapped fingers near her hidden knife.

“Kind of like when those thug bastards tried to move in on our alleys,” Alibaba nodded. “If it’s going to work, it’s got to be sneaky, nimble, and hit them from both sides.”

“Huh.” Cassim nodded at a few of the men to pick up the waiting casks. Turned, and waved a beckoning hand.

Pack on his shoulders, Alibaba followed.

Up and around and through; sunlit streets, dark alleys, and the choking reek of a tanner’s workshop. Even starving, Balbadd needed leather.

_At least Cassim’s hideout is upwind of that_ , Alibaba thought gratefully, as they headed into a warren of wood and brick apartments. _Damn, close quarters in here, and I don’t know a lot of the new guys Cassim’s picked up. If they’ve heard anything about Magic Tools, or if they just think I look weak enough to push around- they could be trouble_. He took a breath of dust and the bones from old meals. _If it comes down to a fight, I can take out a wall and run for it. I hope it doesn’t, I don’t want to start a fire. But I could_.

And as long as he walked with that confidence, looking like he could get past any fight these guys could throw at him... maybe there wouldn’t be a fight.

There were eyes watching. Everywhere.

Another door, and Cassim slung himself into a wide chair; leaning back against one arm, cigar already out and ready to light. “So you think you have an idea that can fix... _this_.”

“Maybe.” _Keep calm_ , Alibaba told himself. “I’ve been talking to a lot of merchants to find out what they see happening here. Now I want to listen to what you know. I’ve got a plan that might work, but I need a lot more information to pull it off. And you might know something that means I’ve got to scrap the whole thing and start over. Though if it’s that bad...” His throat felt dry already. How was he going to get through this? “If it’s that bad, we get everyone we care about together, steal a ship, and head for Sindria. Because no matter how bad things are right now, if what I’ve found out about the Kou Empire is right... things could get much, much worse.”

Hassan had stalked out of yet another doorway, standing behind Zainab so she could lean back against his muscled chest, if she wanted. “Worse than everyone starving, noble boy?”

_They know_. Alibaba refused to flinch. _Fine, they know. Keep going_. “Worse, as in all of Balbadd wiped off the map. The Empire has a Djinn.” _We think. Never mind, worst case is they do, and Cassim needs to think of that_. “Did you ever hear the story about how Sinbad took out part of the _mountain range_ around the kingdom of Sasan?”

That raised a hiss of whispers, even as Cassim’s eyes widened.

_Good, I’ve got his attention._

_...Great. I’ve got his attention. Panicking now. Argh_.

“And you think you’ve got a plan that can fight them,” Cassim said quietly.

“Head on, not a chance,” Alibaba admitted. “But so far, they’re not fighting head on. And I think... I _think_ I know why.” Reaching into his sleeve, he pulled out a map.

The quirk of Cassim’s eyebrow had Hassan and a few others pull over a table to spread it out on. Alibaba hoped he’d hidden his grin. This might just work.

“About fifteen years ago, they were three kingdoms way east of here,” Alibaba stated, tapping that arc of rough-sketched harbors well to the east. “Then they started moving, and taking over. They’re gobbling up the Tenzan Plateau right now; it’s grasslands, their armies move through it like ships over water. They don’t seem to like deserts, they haven’t chopped up the Oasis Cities here, here, and here, and so far Kashugan in the Central Desert’s managed to throw out anybody trying to use the Fan on their ears.” He pointed to each. “But they can do ships - the Empire didn’t have them, but people they took over did - so we’re next on their plate.”

“What’s the Fan got to do with anything?” Zainab muttered.

“A lot,” Alibaba said practically. “I’ll get to that. First thing - Balbadd’s a trade hub. Reim, Partevia, Sindria, the Oasis Cities, the Dark Continent; if it goes anywhere, odds are it comes through here. That makes it the perfect place for Kou to take over if they plan to get bigger. But... that also means it’s a _bad_ place for them to take over _by force_.” He glanced at Cassim. _Come on, it’s just like the gangs back then, I know you can see it if you just_ look.

Cassim scowled at the map as if he’d like to force-feed it to a smirking noble. “Because if they jump in with swords, someone else might decide to come calling.”

“If Kou takes over Balbadd, trade routes get cut,” Alibaba stated. “You want just one thing to think about? Sasan steel would move into Sindria, and then stop. Which would mean Kou would have ticked off the whole Seven Seas Alliance _and_ left them with a weapons-grade steel surplus. I’m betting that to Kou generals, that sounds like a _really bad idea_.”

From the curl of Cassim’s lips, he thought so too. “So... what? If they don’t want to just fry us, or come at with swords, but they’re still after Balbadd-” He stopped, hands curled into fists.

“They’re buying it,” Alibaba said darkly. “They’re buying things the king of Balbadd should never sell. Marine rights. If King Rashid were alive, he’d....”

_Don’t think about it_.

“And that’s where the Fan comes in,” Alibaba made himself go on. “They get people to use paper for money to trade with them. And then what happens? Sure, the Kou Empire trades with paper. No one else will. Which means the Empire can set the terms however they want. Silver and gold - unless someone finds new mines, you know how many coins are going to be out there. Paper? Who controls that? Except the Empire - and they want to take over other nations.” He took a Fan out of his belt, slapped it down on top of the map. “This? It might not be a sword, Cassim. But it’s going to kill Balbadd, just as sure. Only... slower.”

Cassim stared at the Fan, silent.

“We can stop them,” Alibaba said plainly. “It’s not going to be easy, and it’s not going to be safe. But we _can_ stop them. Long enough to get alliances they can’t ignore, and get them the hell out of Balbadd.” He swallowed. “It’ll probably mean Reim and other countries will start messing with us, too, but if they want to send armies they have to send ships. That makes it a lot harder for them than for the Kou. If we’re lucky, if we’re smart, we can keep the other nations glaring at each other over us while we skate out free and clear.”

_I hope_.

“You think we can stop them.” Cassim stared at him. “How?”

Alibaba gave him a sharp grin. “ _We_ set the value of the Fan. At zero.”

Cassim’s eyes narrowed.

“They say you’re the best thief in Balbadd,” Alibaba said shamelessly. “Want to steal a country?”

* * *

Alibaba let himself sigh, just a little, as Cassim led him out of the warren. _I might get away with this_.

Jahan was right, after all; being back in Balbadd _was_ a risk. Though maybe not the way the older merchant thought.

_This was home_.

It hurt, seeing Balbadd suffering. He wanted to stay here and fix things with his own two hands-

_But I can’t. If this is going to work, I_ can’t. _I’ve got to talk to people; I’ve got to move between the islands, make contacts. Getting trade going is the only way Balbadd can survive - but I’m asking people to break the law. To put their lives on the line. I can’t just stay to fix these streets. Cassim... Cassim will do a better job of that than I ever could. He knows who needs help, and what will help them_.

... _Cassim’s not leading me out the same way I came in_.

And the eyes were fading back into the shadows. Even Cassim’s lieutenants were out of sight.

Alibaba stopped on the edge of a wide sunlit space, where someone had torn down what might have been a bakery and no one had yet stolen the last few oven bricks. “So where are we headed?”

“Right here.” Cassim turned, a flash of dark metal now on his arm. “Funny you should mention the Kou have magic. We’ve found some of our own.”

Alibaba didn’t move, studying the steel Cassim must have had tucked away in his own cloak. _That, is a very weird sword_.

In a sense, it didn’t look like a sword at all. Not one meant for crossing steel with an enemy. It was a little like a katar, but with a solid hand-covering that went halfway up the forearm.

_Thrust, punch, and slash_ , Alibaba thought, recalling Barkakk’s lessons on weaponry. _That’s what you’d use it for. Good match for him; he’s still stronger than I am_.

Though it was definitely not a sword for dueling. One solid clash with a heavier blade, and he had a feeling somebody would have a broken arm.

_Would work fine for murder, though. If you’re not going to give your target a chance to fight back_.

...No. Cassim wouldn’t do that. He’d said it was magic; maybe it wasn’t meant for an ordinary fight at all.

_So why does he have it out now?_

There was an obvious reason. But Alibaba was really hoping he was wrong.

“We have a name now, you know,” Cassim said casually, holding up dark steel. “We’re not just my gang anymore. We’re the Fog Troupe. And this... is the Black Bonds Fogblade.” Dark brows flicked up, interested. “So what’s the name of yours?”

Alibaba didn’t touch his knife. “I ended up with it by accident.”

Cassim snorted. “You killed an _island whale_ by accident?”

“I was already in the water,” Alibaba admitted. “I didn’t have anything else left to try. So... yes. I did.”

That sparked a laugh, even if it had a wry edge. “Only you,” Cassim shook his head. “You know, with that map and everything, I was starting to think I didn’t know you anymore.”

Alibaba smiled, relieved. “You still know me. It’s not that different from the barter on the streets. I’ve just read a lot, and bounced around a few places.” One of which had been a dungeon. But the less said about that, the better. People thought Dungeon Capturers were supposed to be kings. And he _wasn’t_.

“A Magic Tool that summons fire,” Cassim mused. “That must have been some accident.”

Alibaba shrugged, trying not to show another sudden wave of relief. _Cassim never saw me with this knife. He doesn’t know it was just steel a month ago_. “I fell into a big mess of monsters and got lucky. When the dust cleared, I ended up with a little silver, and- this.” He just barely touched the hilt. Cassim was way too calm.

_He’s getting ready for something_.

“So....” Cassim turned side-on to him, a smile playing with white teeth. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a good fight, brother. Want to try fog versus fire?”

_So he is after that_. Alibaba shook his head. “How many people do you have betting on this?”

“No one.” Cassim’s eyelids lowered, shoulders stiff with hurt. “It’s just us.”

Alibaba swallowed. “This isn’t like a junk-heap brawl, Cassim. This is fire. If one of us screws up, you’re going to get burned.”

“Now, see, that’s what makes me wonder if I know you.” Cassim gave him a cool, level look. “You know the streets, Alibaba. A man has to stay sharp.”

“You mean you want a duel before you’ll let me leave,” Alibaba said quietly. “Cassim. Nobody’s here. None of us has to prove anything.”

“Yes you do.” Yellow eyes gleamed. “You’re asking me to risk my Troupe on your _best guess_. You owe me.”

“You’re right,” Alibaba admitted, shrugging off his pack so he could move. Because that was part of what this was about, he could see it. Cassim was in charge of the Fog Troupe. He couldn’t just follow an outsider’s plan and still keep his gang members in line. They had to know Cassim was still the toughest, meanest guy in the gang.

_So they’re not watching. But they know we’re going to duel._

_This is not going to be fun._

* * *

_I am called!_

Amon thrilled within steel, unleashing flames; but lightly, only a thread of power. His king had _whispered_ to him, rukh ready to fight but not ready to kill.

_A testing of power_.

It seemed the most likely scenario, at least. The one Alibaba faced was a dark storm of magoi, lashing out with Gravity Magic again and again.

_Dark, but not Fallen. Yet_. Amon frowned. _Be careful, my king. If you cannot pull him from the pit of despair, he will be a dangerous enemy_.

His king’s rukh flinched at the thought. _Not Cassim_ , came that whispered prayer. _We’re friends_.

“Hmph,” Amon muttered to himself. “Because all friends go after each other with steel and power.”

Well. He would lend his king power; tempered not to cause fatal harm, as Alibaba wished. And then they would see.

* * *

Black fog weighed down his left arm like iron chains. For a moment Alibaba wished he had Morgiana’s easy strength, that could flit across a room as if iron were light as silver ornaments-

He leapt and spun, flames lashing away another dark cloud.

“Not bad.” Cassim didn’t follow, pulling back the black fog with a wave of his sword. “Most guys are on their knees with just one hit.” He held up the dark blade, another black globe gathering at its tip. “You always were too stubborn to quit.”

They weren’t talking about just fighting, anymore. Alibaba kept his gaze on yellow eyes, not the fog; words were more important than magic. “How can I quit when my brothers and sisters need me?”

“Smuggling. _Nails_.” Cassim waved steel back and forth like a serpent, eyes hot with pent-up anger. “You think we can just melt trade away from the nobles, and they’ll let it happen? They’ll have the guards out to wipe us out, again, and _you_ won’t be here to face it!”

“If they knew that much about trade, this wouldn’t have happened!” Alibaba dashed sideways, then skipped back, just over a leaden cloud of black. “It’s not just me, Cassim. Captain Aden, Jahan’s merchants, everyone they deal with - they know Balbadd’s in trouble. This is their country, too! They’re going to fight for it, just like you are.”

“You. Not _we_.” Fox eyes slitted, as Cassim brought darkness slashing down-

_“Amol Berka!”_

Fire snaked across the ground, splitting fog apart before slamming into enchanted steel-

_Please don’t let that be too hard!_

Cassim hit the bricks with an _oof_ of breath lost. Shook dark hair, dazed, sword glinting like ordinary steel.

Breathing hard, Alibaba rose, feeling fog wisp off his arm as Cassim tried to blink his way back to the fight. _Tired. And no fires here to pull off of_....

Cassim got to his feet, breathing no harder than if he’d knocked two lieutenants’ heads together. Looked at the scorch mark on pale clothes, where steel hadn’t blocked all the flames. Glanced at Alibaba, where the blond stood weaving as if he’d taken the hit, not Cassim.

_He could take me_ , Alibaba thought, tired and just a little heartsick. _He’s stronger. And he knows it_.

Which just went to show that Aladdin had had _no idea_ what a magi was supposed to do for the world. Him, a king? What good was having a Djinn if someone with a Magical Tool could take him down?

_Not Aladdin’s fault. He didn’t know_.

Cassim shook off the last of his daze, and gave Alibaba a sidelong look. “And you killed an island whale with that?”

Alibaba sheathed his knife; Cassim already had what he wanted. “It didn’t think a puny human could be trouble.”

“Bad decision.” Cassim wriggled his fingers as he took the sword off his hand. “We’ve got to do that again sometime.”

_He thinks I was holding back_. Alibaba’s heart sank as he picked up his pack. _No way do I want to do that again_.

But he’d better practice for it anyway. If Cassim wasn’t the only one in the Fog Troupe with a Magic Tool, sooner or later the others would try to see if they could take the outsider with the funny knife. Just to prove who was _really_ in charge.

_And I can’t let them beat me, or it’ll all fall apart_. Alibaba tried not to wince at the weight of his pack on his sore left shoulder. _If they can beat me, they’ll try pushing the merchants next. If the one they push doesn’t know his way around a knife it’ll get ugly; if it’s one of Jahan’s warrior-merchants, someone will get dead. Either way, I can’t let that happen_.

“That looks like more planning.” Cassim stalked nearer, sword vanishing into pale folds of cloth.

Alibaba gave him a tired grin. “We’re trying to snare an island whale with silk. Of course I’m planning.”

“You’d better.” Cassim clapped him on the shoulder. “So what’s this I hear about island whales luring guys in by looking like pretty girls?”

Alibaba winced, and started walking. “Well, it’s only part of the whale....”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katar - a kind of push dagger from India. IMHO, yes, General Barkakk taught Alibaba swordplay, but as a responsible instructor he would have also at least given a young prince the basics on other weapons he might run into. Especially ones that might be used for assassinations!


	5. Aggressive Asset Relocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's worse with pirates.

_About five months later_.

He’d never thought Alibaba had come from anywhere so _green_.

Aladdin stared down at the city on the sea, taking in the trees and pale stone buildings and canals with little waves from the ocean beyond. And ships. So many ships, sailing in and out, all shapes and sizes; though most of them were far enough out to be just white shapes of sails on rough blue water.

He’d met Alibaba in the middle of a _desert_. How could his friend have gotten used to sand and red rocks when he’d been born to this?

Morgiana stepped up to the top of the hill beside him, dark-lashed eyes narrowed in a frown. “Something doesn’t look right.”

Heavier footsteps stopped, as Sin stood behind them both for his own look. “People in the streets, that’s good... but if I recall, those empty quarters are supposed to be marketplaces....” Violet hair swished over his shoulder as he shook his head. “Well, we won’t know until we go and ask, will we?”

Aladdin gripped Ugo’s flute, and nodded, as they started down the hill. If this was where Alibaba had said he’d come - he had to see it. “You’ve been to Balbadd before, Mister Sin?”

“Oh, many times,” the barely-clad merchant said cheerfully, heading for a trail that melded into a road as if he knew exactly where he was going. “The capital city isn’t as big as Napolia in Reim, unless you include the islands. But there’s far more trade going through it. No one needs a license to trade here... well, they didn’t last year. Things have gotten a bit confused in Balbadd since King Rashid Saluja died three years ago, and trying to work it out with letters just made us all scratch our heads! So some of my company came to see what was going on for ourselves.”

“The king died?” Aladdin blinked. _I wonder if Alibaba knew that. He talked like he’d been away from here a long time_. “Who’s the king now?”

“Abhmad Saluja, Rashid’s oldest son.” Sin glanced at the fields set back from the road, frowning a little at young arrow-leaved plants Aladdin had never seen before. “The Saluja royal family has ruled here for generations. They’ve done a good job keeping their nation out of most wars; they’d rather trade than fight, any day. And most other nations are willing to let them. After all, it’s good to have someplace for people who don’t fit in to go.”

“Who don’t fit in?” Morgiana gave him a sidelong glance.

“If you don’t have anywhere else you can go, go to Balbadd. Or Sindria,” Sin smiled. “I have to say our king got the idea from King Rashid. It means we end up with a lot of troublemakers, sure - but they tend to wipe each other out in back alleys if they’re that bad. And the good people, the ones who are just a little strange, like the ladies who want to be blacksmiths or the young men who want to work silk... well, if where they come from doesn’t like that, we can certainly use them!”

“But if you go to Balbadd because you can’t fit in....” Aladdin frowned. “Then why did he leave?”

“He?” Sin asked, curious.

“A friend of mine. I’ve been looking for him ever since we got split up, six months ago,” Aladdin answered. “He said he had something to do in Balbadd, then he wanted to go to Sindria.” He smiled, remembering that quiet wonder on Alibaba’s face as they’d floated back through the void between the worlds. “He said it was his Sinbad dream.”

“Well, everybody needs a dream.” Sin was looking his way with even more interest, as if the city gates they were heading toward weren’t nearly as important. “Who was this friend? Maybe I’ve met him.”

“A caravan driver.” Morgiana’s voice was quiet, as she glanced at the white-turbaned guards by the gates. “He’s very brave. But you don’t often see it. He’s like Balbadd. He’d rather trade than fight.” She gave Sin a dark glance, deliberately slowing her pace. “You said, _unless you include the islands_. Why?”

Aladdin blinked. Why was that important? Though he could see why she’d ask now, before they hit the guards. Just in case.

“The caravan drivers I talked to said you could take a ship to the Dark Continent from Balbadd, but these days, they only left from the islands,” Morgiana went on. “What makes the islands different?”

“Heh! Oh, yes; Balbadd natives are a little funny that way,” Sin smiled. “The city of Balbadd is dry land. _Firm earth_ , they call it. Islands - aren’t. The rules are a little different.”

“Islands aren’t land?” Aladdin asked, puzzled. “Why not?”

“Ever hear of island whales?” Sin winked. “Long, heroic, if sometimes painful story. I’ll tell you as we walk. But for anyone from Balbadd... islands can _change_. They’ve dredged up more land out of the sea in some places, cut canals for better trade in others. Once in a generation or so, they say, a water-magician will show up, call on the sea to swamp a few islands he doesn’t like, and use the pieces to make a whole new one; with castles of coral, lamps of pearl, and sea-serpents as his moat guards!” He grinned, as if staring up at coral fortifications. “Now, wouldn’t that be a great adventure?”

It would. Though that didn’t quite answer Morg’s question about the islands, Aladdin realized, as they neared the gates. So... was it that Sin didn’t know, or was it like Ugo not telling him something, because he wanted Aladdin to find out for himself?

_Guess we’re going to have to find out_. Aladdin smiled at the guards as they walked through the gates; the spear-carrying men were giving Sin a shocked second look, but hadn’t stopped any of them. _Huh. Back in the Oasis Cities they would have asked a lot of questions. Balbadd’s different_.

Very, very different. He saw people paler than Alibaba, and darker than anyone who’d been in Sahsa’s caravan. Silks, and cotton, and exotic furs; a dozen different accents laughing, and arguing, and trading....

Well, they _should_ have been trading, Aladdin thought, as the three of them passed through yet another near-empty marketplace. But there weren’t that many people buying and selling-

He caught Morgiana’s open-mouthed sniff, and slowed down. “What is it?”

“Fish. Dyed cloth. And - everything else you’d find in a market.” She took a deeper sniff. “It was here. But not during the daylight.”

“So the markets are running when no one’s looking,” Sin said quietly. “That’s interesting.”

Something about the way Sin said _interesting_ made the back of Aladdin’s neck prickle. Or maybe that was the sight of a new trio of guards headed their way, a gold-decked noble in the lead.

“You there!” The noble huffed, turban bleached white as clouds. “State your business.”

Morgiana blinked at him. “We’re travelers.”

Baba’s staff through his belt, Aladdin tried to look very well-traveled.

“A likely story.” The noble turned his nose up. “Disreputable strangers, hanging around the marketplaces, with no trade permits? You’re affiliated with those accursed smugglers. Take them!”

“Smugglers?” Sin chuckled before anyone could move. “I don’t see how we could be smuggling anything. Of course, if the noble gentleman would care to properly inspect me for contraband....” He reached for the knot of his improvised garments.

Aladdin tried not to giggle at the sudden squawk from noble lips. Even Morgiana’s eyes were dancing.

“Rude - uncouth - that’s not _necessary-!_ ”

A few tangled moments of outraged squeaks, and they were free.

“Whew!” Sin whistled as they finally slowed down near a canal, leaning on a wall with red-painted markings. “Ja’far wouldn’t have let me live it down if I ended up in jail before we even made it to the hotel... eh?”  

Morgiana squinted at the slashed characters, then glanced at Aladdin. “What does it say?”

“Down with the monarchy.” Aladdin frowned at the odd rectangle of red-inked paper someone had nailed to the wall. “What’s that?”

“Something I don’t think any of us should touch,” Sin said quietly. “It was left as a message. Let’s not make it one for us.” He smiled. “Come on. Our hotel should be just around the next corner!”

“They used a nail,” Morgiana murmured, as Aladdin reluctantly drew away from the odd paper.

“They wanted it to stay,” Aladdin pointed out, but kept his voice just as quiet. “What else would they use?”

“I haven’t seen any nails left around. Anywhere.”

Aladdin believed her. Which meant that had to be important. Like maybe the nail was part of the message?

Whatever it was, he was liking Balbadd a lot less than he had an hour ago. “Where do you think we should look for Alibaba?”

Ahead of them, Sin almost stumbled over a stray brick.

“I’m not sure,” Morgiana replied. “But hotels serve travelers. Someone ought to know how to find a caravan driver.”

* * *

“Alibaba?” Ja’far gave his now-dressed king a dark look. “We came to find out what was wrong in Balbadd, you’ve lost all your Vessels, and you want to help two children find a caravan driver?”

Rubbing his throat - Ja’far hadn’t been _seriously_ trying to throttle him, but that hadn’t been fun - Sinbad gave him an amused grin. “And you don’t? A youngster like Aladdin who’s managed to cross half the world on his own, and the first young Fanalis I’ve seen in years. They’d do well in Sindria. Surely, the young man they’re looking for would be just as much help to us.”

“A Fanalis likes him,” Masrur observed, arms crossed like a wall of granite. “He could be trouble.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s _in_ trouble,” Sinbad said wryly. “Didn’t you listen to Aladdin’s description, Ja’far?”

“Blond,” Ja’far clipped out. “Gold eyes. About so high.” A bit shorter than Ja’far, who wasn’t a tall man to start with. “Decent with a knife-”

“Good enough with a knife to take down the lord of Qishan,” Sinbad observed. “And take him down _alive_.”

The ex-assassin frowned, gray eyes hooded and thoughtful. “So... very good with a knife.”

“Trained,” Masrur nodded. “Not a caravan driver.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s that, too,” Sinbad said, half to himself. “After all, Harun was a very good merchant, himself.”

“Ha-” Ja’far cut himself off. _“Alibaba?”_

“We never did find out where that boy ended up after Rashid died,” Sinbad mused, wanting to kick himself. Just a little. But it was a month’s sail between Sindria and Balbadd, there’d always seemed to be something more important to handle in the way of Al-Thamen-caused emergencies around the world instead of taking a relaxing sea voyage to see their ally’s surprise youngest son, and by the time they’d found out about Rashid’s passing, Alibaba had been _gone_. “His brothers’ messages were, hmm, less than informative?”

Masrur snorted, not at all impressed with Rashid’s eldest sons.

“Who knows, they may have improved a bit with time,” Sinbad reflected. “We’ll find out. But right now, Balbadd’s in trouble. If Alibaba is anything like his father, he’s here. Somewhere.” He pointed at Ja’far. “And you two came in early to find out _why_ Balbadd’s in trouble. What are we up against?”

Ja’far shook off surprise, face serious again. “Several things. First - Balbadd has cut off all official trade with anyone lacking a Kou Empire license.”

Which was bad news for everyone right there. Balbadd lived on trade. And thanks to certain evil shadowy magicians providing their pawns with Magical Tools and who knew what other unholy aid, the Kou Empire was more than powerful enough already. They didn’t need to batten on Balbadd’s lifeblood as well. “Yet we’ve had more trade from Balbadd these past few months than we did last year... hah.” Sinbad leaned back in the hotel’s luxurious seat, thinking. “So it’s smuggling that’s come to our rescue. _Interesting_.”

“Balbadd always smuggles,” Masrur pointed out.

“But usually the people think enough of their king to make sure the Saluja family gets a cut,” Sinbad countered. “It’s good for business. The smugglers we’ve had sail in wouldn’t get a Kou Empire license if you paid them. They may not know magic, but they know trouble when they smell it on the wind. That empire is nothing but.” He frowned. “Which means they must have a very good reason to risk keeping trade going between our nations.”

“Profit,” Ja’far summed up.

“No.” Sinbad shook his head, recalling sad violet eyes across a tavern table, as the “merchant Harun” calmly dissected everything a young Sinbad had lost in his first attempt to trade in Reim. “No, this is about much more than money. Every time they sail to us, every cargo they bring into the islands, they’re risking the Empire’s attention. One or two captains doing that for profit, I’d believe. The numbers that are coming to Sindria? They’d have to have personal reasons....”

_Like a young prince, found once more?_

“With Abhmad as king? I can believe that,” Ja’far said darkly.

Ouch. But true, Sinbad reflected. Given how a younger Abhmad had treated Sinbad’s motley group of merchant-adventurers, mostly as not worth the time to spit on - he could just imagine what ordinary Balbadd merchants thought of that attitude. When it came to motive, they couldn’t rule out pure spite.

_Rashid’s letters never talked about how Alibaba got along with his brothers. I wonder_....

“Especially given _these_.” Ja’far waved a rustle of red-printed paper.

“Kou Empire Fan bills,” Sinbad nodded. He might be a king rather than an active merchant-adventurer these days, but he still kept an eye on the currency flows between nations. Rashid had drummed that into his head hard enough to leave marks, Djinn or no Djinn. “If Abhmad’s made a Kou Empire license a requirement for trade, it’s no wonder they’re here-”

“Balbadd’s not using anything else. Officially.” Ja’far’s shoulders were tense under his official robe; a bureaucrat about to shed hard-earned civility and go hunting. “The dock-master had the gall to tell us coinage of other nations would be confiscated. Oh, he didn’t _say_ that, just offered us exchange rates for money that wouldn’t be worth anything....”

“I smiled at him,” Masrur said quietly.

“I’ll bet you did,” Sinbad grinned. After which, he was sure, the dock-master had found some reason to make Ja’far someone else’s problem. _Anyone_ else’s. “The traders who come to us must be working around the currency somehow-”

Steel glinted between Ja’far’s clenched fingers. Sinbad tensed, before recognizing those weren’t at all the right shape to be Ja’far’s deadly rope-darts.

With a bow, Ja’far unfolded his fingers, displaying three polished nails; one steel, one iron, one bright copper. “It’s not easy to get anyone to talk. But if you say you’re willing to trade something small and not too expensive - say, a sky-blue ribbon for a cleaning maid’s hair - and keep it out of official sight....”

Startled, Sinbad picked one of the nails off Ja’far’s palm. Straight, new, and certainly not cheap. Steel would be the most expensive, used where two planks had to join and stay as long as possible. Iron was cheaper, used where someone might tolerate some rust, and it didn’t matter if wear eventually shattered it. The copper nail wasn’t cheap, though it’d be most valuable in the shipyard, nailing sheathing to hulls to keep them from fouling....

_Most valuable in a shipyard, yes_ , Sinbad thought. _But everyone knows that - so it’s worth something_ anywhere. “Someone,” he breathed, “is an absolute _genius_.” He paused, trying to consider that from an ordinary citizen’s point of view, instead of a rukh-led king’s. “Or desperate. But still, genius.” He glanced up at his companions. “And now they’re a target.”

Masrur’s brow rose.

“They shook you down at the dock for coins,” Sinbad stated. “A noble and his guards tried to shake us down as smugglers, when we obviously weren’t carrying any more than Morgiana’s bedroll. Everyone’s worried, everyone’s afraid; the country the Salujas built for generations, that _lives_ to welcome in anyone with new goods to trade and a mostly honest heart, is shutting out anyone who might even hint of being a stranger.” He shook his head, certain. “Kou isn’t _subtle_ enough to do this.”

The Fanalis’ lip curled. “Them.”

“More than likely,” Sinbad agreed. “I think it’s a good thing we’re here, don’t you?”

Ja’far was rolling the iron and copper nails between his fingers, face set in that neutral quiet that meant an assassin’s training was considering all angles of attack. “Al-Thamen means to destroy Balbadd. Whoever’s fighting them is their next target.”

Sinbad flipped steel between two fingers, all too sober. “They won’t take this lying down, no. Which makes me wonder... what do they plan to do next?”

* * *

The pirate ship burned bright against the night sky; sails dripping flame, the planking of one side collapsing in sprays of iron-red sparks as the doomed ship began to list to port.

Amon still raised in a fiery salute, Alibaba drew in one deliberate breath. Court lessons hadn’t covered intimidating your enemies with magical fire, but... some principles still applied.

Face schooled to intense, chill calm, he turned toward the surviving pirates. Let the flames still dance along steel, as if he were no more worried at their touch than the brush of a summer breeze, as he locked gazes with the first mate. The captain hadn’t survived the _Waves’ Shadow_ taking their ship.

_And I am not going to be sorry about that_.

Knife lowered, still flickering, Alibaba stalked close enough to stare into the mate’s disbelieving eyes. “You’re going to tell us who you took off the _Dancer_ and the _Siduri’s Net_ alive. You’re going to tell us where you sold them, and who was willing to buy them. And if you don’t know, you’re going to tell us who _does_ know. Do that....” He let the words hang between them, punctuated by the crackle of flames. “And you might just live.”

_One moment, make him believe it_ -

Alibaba turned on his heel, flames out as he sheathed his knife. Stalked off, as if he had no doubts whatsoever what was about to happen to them. And made sure he got out of sight behind the wheelhouse before he started shaking.

_Hunting these bastards for a week_....

With any luck, he’d found the pirates soon enough that the surviving smugglers wouldn’t have been sold that far away. Soon enough that they’d still be alive, please, let them be _alive_.

“We all knew the risks, Merhdad.”

Alibaba glanced at Captain Aden as the man stomped to a halt beside him. The captain’s dark eyes watched masts crack and crumble in the flames; he nodded sharply, grimly satisfied. “We knew what we were getting into. And our families, too. Though curse those black-hearted curs for going after _children_.”

Alibaba swallowed, trying to make his hands shake a little less. The alias - really didn’t help as much as he’d thought it would. Oh, to keep the nobles from figuring out who was smuggling, it might work. But he still hurt at the reality. “We’re bringing them into port alive. Dead pirates... more dead pirates... won’t get the word out fast enough.”

“Alive,” Aden agreed, dour as ever. “Likely a bit _tenderized_. But alive.”

“How can he do this?” Alibaba wondered, exhausted from more than just magic. “Abhmad... he’s always been - careless. He doesn’t think about other people. But to send pirates after anyone not flying a Kou flag....”

“He likely thinks lawbreakers don’t deserve any better,” Aden _hmph_ ed. “It may be an idiot law, but we’re breaking it.”

“But we’re not the only ones,” Alibaba pointed out. “Ships from Reim, Sindria, Actia, even the Dark Continent - anyone might come to Balbadd if the winds go against them. If someone needs water, if they need fruit, you _let them land_. Or if it’s a war, you put it in a dinghy for them, and stand watch until they head back out to sea. It’s what we do!”

Because the sea was like the desert; it didn’t care about nations or flags. If you got arrogant, if you got careless, the sea was always waiting to kill you.

“This is crazy,” Alibaba breathed. “This is _asking_ to start a fight.”

Aden snorted. “And what makes you think the Kou Empire wouldn’t want just that, eh? Nasty little Balbadd, start a fight with Reim; Kou sailing in to the rescue, because like it or not they’re trade partners, aren’t they? And they’d pay reparations to Reim out of Balbadd’s pocket once it was all over, after all, they started it....”

Fingernails bit into his palms. Alibaba mouthed a few curses, working his fists back open again. _Damn it. We’re keeping trade going. We’re keeping people from starving. Better than that; Jahan and his family and every merchant they know are pulling together a web of trade as deep and strong as it used to be, so the islands can take people pulling out of the city. The value of the Fan is dropping in Balbadd, because now no one who has a choice will take it; and since our traders won’t take it, people in other nations are starting to get the idea. The more they demand hard silver from the Kou, the more that empire ought to be distracted from us. But every move we make, Abhmad keeps digging in deeper. I need... I need more ideas_. “How fast can we get to Balbadd?”

“Going to go fight with Cassim again?” Aden gave him a dark look. “Don’t think we don’t know, lad. They keep upping the odds when you fight.”

“Good,” Alibaba shot back. Though no, it _wasn’t_ good, he hated fighting Cassim. Hated seeing the calculation in his brother’s eyes, as Cassim judged just how close he could get to flames before Alibaba flinched. “I need someone to fight me, Aden. I need them to be serious. Because there’s someone in the Empire with a Djinn, someone who’s trained for over ten years, and if I have to face them....”

The captain grimaced. “No word from Sindria, then?”

“Nothing definite,” Alibaba sighed. “I think maybe I should have taken Jahan’s advice.”

“You usually do,” Aden said warily. “Which bit was this?”

Alibaba tried not to blush. “Um... find a lovely lady, wrap her in silks, and write the message to Sinbad on her... well....”

Aden’s fist thumped the center of the wheel, as the man cackled like a desert hyena.

“It’s not funny,” Alibaba muttered, feeling his cheeks flame. “It’s not... he’s a hero....” Oh, he was so not going to win this one.

“Ah, one of these days we’ll have to drag you into a tavern, lad.” Aden reached out to pat him with a rough hand. “Go help with the rigging; we’ll want to catch every scrap of breeze to put into port before the fog lifts. The sooner we have these blackguards off my ship, the better.” A toothy grin. “I’m sure Cassim will be glad to see a fresh catch of slaving pirates!”

“When he’s been wrestling with account ledgers?” Alibaba sighed. “I’m going to owe him a good fight, just for that....”

* * *

“I’m going to kill him,” Cassim growled, tapping his quill pen against the account ledger like a cat’s irritated tail. “I’m going to _mangle_ him. I’m going to chase him and his damn fire around and around until his head spins and he falls over without me even _touching_ him. Goes off chasing pirates and leaves me with-!”

Behind him, somebody snickered.

Cassim swore the steam ought to be rising off him like a tea kettle. “What was that?”

“Nothing, Boss,” Hassan said lightly.

Sure it was. Damn it, why had he ever let Anis teach them to read? Nothing but trouble. And numbers. Lots and lots of annoying head-breaky numbers, and you couldn’t even _stab_ them.

Cassim sighed, and thumped his head on the dried ink. Mostly dried. He hoped.

Damn it, when Alibaba had said somebody ought to get the land side of the trade going, and he’d smirked and said the brat ought to leave it to someone who knew what alleys to sneak down-

He should have _known_ something was up when Alibaba grinned at him. Should have. Definitely.

_Mangle’s looking better all the time_....

“So... are we making money, Boss?” Hassan dared. “I mean, of course we are, everybody’s getting enough to go around....”

“Yeah, we are.” Cassim contemplated lighting a cigar; decided to save it for when he wouldn’t be tempted to light the damn ledgers on fire. “Right now it’s about fifty-fifty on thefts versus the trade coming in.”

And that gnawed at him, worse because his gang was doing well. Because these were his people, and his streets, and Alibaba had run away from all of it-

Cassim put down the pen before he splintered it. Sharpening quills was a pain.

_My gang’s doing okay. That’s what’s important, right? And we’ve got coins and goods hoarded for when the plan goes up in smoke_.

Because it would. It had to. Things just didn’t go right for a brat from the slums. Ever.

_Even if the brat’s a prince_.

Not that most people outside his lieutenants had any clue about _that_. He’d stomped his foot down about that hard the first time he and Alibaba had come to terms on what the Fog Troupe would and wouldn’t do as part of Merhdad’s plan. Alibaba’s smuggling alias, not the missing prince; because the people needed to stand against the nobles on their own two feet-

Alibaba had agreed with him. Fervently. Which had felt like winding up to smash in a door the hard way, only to have someone open it from the other side. _Argh_.

It didn’t make sense. Alibaba was born royalty. Why _wouldn’t_ he want people following the third prince?

But he didn’t. Cassim had seen that every time he’d made contact with another merchant or street kid Alibaba had dazzled... just by walking by sometimes, it seemed like. Some of them hadn’t even _met_ him, given the stories Hassan and Zainab had picked up from a few ex-slaves that had made it here all the way from Qishan. They just knew that their sadistic Lord Jamil was dead, dead, _way_ dead, that Alibaba had bought them all free and stuck around long enough to make that stick after a new lord came in - and then he’d vanished.

_Where the hell did Alibaba get the coins to free a whole city’s worth of slaves?_

Wherever it’d been, Cassim suspected that was the same stash that’d made sure Alibaba’s trade net had just enough coin to get started. Which didn’t seem like a lot, but... wrestling with just the land ledgers, it had to be a scary amount of gold.

_Maybe as much as we’d get robbing the treasury_....

Cassim ground his teeth, and once more slapped that down as a bad idea. Robbing Alibaba would be one payoff, one time. Right now Alibaba’s plan had them set to pull _dozens_ of robberies, as many as the Troupe could handle, every month. Never huge payoffs, no; but constant. Enough for everybody to eat constant. Enough for medicine when people needed it, enough to bribe the guards to look the other way when they needed that - even enough for people who’d burned out on robbing or had taken a bad wound to get tools and try a small trade, here and there.

_I’m a thief to take care of my people. That’s what’s important. Not the stealing. The people_.

Which was something he’d tried to get through Alibaba’s head, all those years ago, before the royals had swooped down and stolen away their bastard kid. He still argued with Alibaba about that every time the blond came to port, because the little prince was bouncing around between the islands instead of on the ground in Balbadd where people were _suffering_ -

Except from what Cassim could tell from the ledgers and his own street life, the island-hopping was _necessary_ , damn it. Talking ship captains into dodging Balbadd’s dock-masters and government searches was like negotiating with the gang the next street over on who got to pick whose pockets. You couldn’t just sit on a cushy chair and wait for people to come to you. You had to get out there, let them see you; let them know you were risking your own hide just as much as they were.

Worse, this wasn’t just talking to guys from the next street over. Alibaba and his crazy band of smugglers were luring in captains from all over the _world_. Reim, Sindria, Actia - hell, last Cassim had heard, some crazy ship from _Imuchukk_ , of all places, had decided to get lost in tropical winds and stop on by.

_Lost. Right_.

He’d seen one of the guys from Imuchukk. Nobody that huge could _ever_ get lost. All they’d have to do would be stop the nearest fire-breathing pirate and ask directions. Swords and spears, hell; you’d need flat-out Magic Tools just to dent their hide.

Cassim smirked, thinking of their shadowy arms dealer. _Well, we have those, don’t we?_

Which should make him feel better about the next time he’d beat the- _spar_ with Alibaba. Magic Tool against Magic Tool, after all.

Only Alibaba’s knife wasn’t like their swords. And he wasn’t sure why.

_Guy’s pulling off everything he does with it by guesswork_ , Cassim frowned. _That ought to make it less useful, we know what to do with ours... but his does_ more.

Acid, illusion, binding. Their swords each had one purpose. The Fog Troupe had figured out how to take advantage of their capabilities to make them a little more flexible, but their Magic Tools did _one_ thing.

As they’d found out in painful spars, Alibaba’s knife might do a dozen things - so long as each of them shaped fire.

_He’s still holding back_.

And that... really galled Cassim, when he thought about it. So fire was dangerous. So a slip with it might cost them. So none of the Fog Troupe had a prince’s fancy training in swordsmanship - and ow, that had been a _nasty_ surprise, when Alibaba managed to dodge his binding fog and slip through gaps in his guard Cassim had never realized were there. Even so. Facing down that fire, and knowing he held onto leading the Fog Troupe because Alibaba was _holding back_ -

Zainab slunk through the doorway, face set in a way that meant someone had pulled something that wasn’t in the plan. “The _Shadow_ ’s coming in. With _guests_.”

* * *

_At least he got the ink off his face_.

Zainab followed behind her boss, stopping two steps behind him when he stared at the tied and blindfolded pirates lying on the dock, fox eyes glittering. This was always the tricky part. Cassim had a vicious streak on his good days. And these wharf rats had gone out and killed some of their people, and enslaved more.

But so far Cassim was just stalking along the bloodied line of them, examining the damage with a professional’s eye. Nodded, and headed back onto the solid stone of the street, raising an eyebrow at Alibaba. “So?”

Not what Zainab would have started with for a question, given Alibaba was still stained with smoke, face pale as ashes. But this was the boss’ call.

“I plan to dump the mate in the dock-master’s office.” Alibaba glanced over where Aden’s crew were talking to some of the merchant survivors they’d pulled off the pirate vessel. “With a copy of the ship’s log. It’s... sketchy. I don’t think the captain read a lot. But there are,” he swallowed dryly, “enough details.”

“Oh?” Cassim drew out the word, dark brow arching higher.

Alibaba took a breath, and handed over leatherbound pages.

Scowling, Cassim took the log, and started reading. Stopped, almost immediately. “Does he have to be alive?”

“The message might get through better if he is.” Alibaba didn’t flinch. “I want word spread everywhere. I want people to know this is what happened to our ships. _Our people_.” Knuckles clenched, pale with fury. “Spent the trip here copying out the past few months.... We’re going to leave enough evidence that the dock-master knows exactly what this scum did. And what happened to them when we found them.”

“Heh.” Cassim’s smirk had an eager edge. “So either Shahidi gets off his fat butt and does what a dock-master’s supposed to do with pirate slavers... or he doesn’t.”

Either way, Zainab knew, there’d be more blood in the streets. Which suited Cassim just fine.

“The rest of them... I think we killed most of the ones with any guts,” Alibaba said flatly. “Now we’ll see if Shahidi has what it takes to follow the law. If he lets them go....” The blond’s smile was still friendly, but it had that same edge of steel. “Then they’ll be on your turf.”

And Zainab just barely kept herself from shaking her head, because _damn it_ , Cassim.

_So he was born royal_ , Zainab thought. _So what? He’s from the same streets we are. Maybe a little more honest, maybe a little too nice. He_ knows _that. He’s not moving for boss. Doesn’t even want to try. He’s got the islands and the smugglers; we’ve got the firm land and the alleys. And together the two of you are giving the nobles hell_.

_You work together like paired knives, the kid still loves you - and half the time you just hate his guts. Why, damn it?_

Zainab didn’t know, but she was beginning to think she’d better find out. Fog Troupe or smugglers, they couldn’t afford a fight amongst themselves. Not now. Pirate slavers on the sea. Bandit slavers hitting the overland caravans. All at the same time, getting worse and worse the harder they all fought for Balbadd. If the bastards weren’t so spread out and obviously not part of the same gangs, she’d _swear_ it was all part of one mailed fist to crush them-

“We need to talk,” Alibaba said soberly. “Cassim - I need your help.”

* * *

“So King Abhmad’s invited in pirates to hit every ship that doesn’t dance to his little tune.” Studying the island map with its little markers of ships and attacks, Cassim blew a cloud of smoke. “Well, isn’t that nice and _lawful_ of him.”

Alibaba tried not to cough, as the bitter taste itched the back of his throat. Zainab and Hassan had no problems breathing it in, why did he? “It’s stupid. It’s wrong-”

Cassim smiled, and blew another long plume of silky gray. “It’s _war_.”

“No!” Alibaba slammed a fist on the map, ship-markers jumping; one landed on that damn logbook, rattling against salty leather. “Damn it, Cassim! That’s what the Kou want! We can’t let them have it!”

Fox-quick, Cassim was in his face, teeth bared. “We can’t let them kill our people and walk away!”

_“I know!”_

And damn it, that was wrong, he’d pushed too hard, he could hear the singing of steel as Cassim went for his sword-

Hands grabbed them both; Zainab’s shimmering red fog at Alibaba’s throat, as Hassan gripped Cassim’s wrist. “Boss,” Hassan said levelly. “Let’s cut up the nobles. Not each other.”

Cassim snarled, muscles straining against his lieutenant’s hold as he glared straight at Alibaba. “Think you’ve won this one-”

“I’m not _winning_ anything,” Alibaba gritted out. Damn it all, they were both tired, angry, scared for their people.... “I’m - sorry. I said that wrong. We have to fight. But we have to fight _smart_.”

Cassim’s lip curled, as he slowly eased his grip. “Killing’s killing, Alibaba. There’s no smart about it. Just blood, and fear, and death.”

“There’d better be a lot more than that,” Alibaba shot back. “Or we’re going to lose. This is Kou, Cassim. Abhmad’s just their puppet. The Empire’s doing this. We’re not just fighting Abhmad’s nobles. Even if you tore down every palace and killed every noble in Balbadd-” _even the children, Solomon, Cassim, would you kill the children?_ “-we’d still lose-”

Zainab swung away from him suddenly, listening.

Alibaba saw the room go silent, even Cassim yanking back his fury to eye the door. He didn’t know all the sounds in Cassim’s warren, but something must not be right.

A few heartbeats, and someone tentatively knocked at the doorway.

“Enough with the uptown manners,” one of Cassim’s men grumbled. “Boss! Guy from Shahidi here to see you.”

_What?_

The white-faced dock guard looked all too aware that he was a minnow swimming with a school of barracudas. None of whom were interested in eating him. Yet.

Alibaba cast a curious look at Cassim. _Since when did Shahidi even admit the Fog Troupe existed?_

Cassim gave him a considering frown back. _New one on me_. “You’re here. Speak your piece.”

“Dock-Master Shahidi’s compliments, um... sir....” Another almost-hidden gulp. “I was told to bring word to Boss Cassim, and Merhdad if possible?”

“We’re listening,” Alibaba stated, glad his hair was hidden under a soft Partevian mosaic-knit cap. Jahan had insisted; if they wanted to keep the government chasing rumors of Merhdad the Partevian, he had to at least look like he’d visited that kingdom long enough to pick up some clothes. “What is it?”

The guard nodded to him, and took a deep breath; steadier, this time, with the kind of anger Alibaba was all too familiar with; _I know this is wrong, but there’s only so much I can_ do. “Some of the pirates decided to talk, in hopes of leniency. They had-” The guard shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe his own words. “They claimed they were official. That they had every right to be chasing smugglers in our waters. That... they were given _sounding charts_.”

The room went very still.

“You. _Stay there_.” Cassim turned on the logbook as if he’d like to shred it with a fine razor. “You said you went through the ship for documents....”

“I did,” Alibaba stated, pouncing on leather and flipping through pages. “I was reading the recent entries, figured that’s where they would have sold our people, didn’t have time to go through everything-”

Two-thirds back through the pages, a thin sheet of onionskin paper slithered free.

Cassim hissed. “Is that-?”

“Lord Nalci’s seal,” Alibaba said, almost numb as he picked up the finely-lettered chart. Technically, it was the Sea-General’s seal; or for outsiders, the Lord of the Seas at War. Foreign courts were impressed by that sort of name. Even if it was just a fancy title for the luckless noble guy stuck managing Balbadd’s few naval ships, when they had some; hiring privateers, when they had those, which fortunately didn’t happen very often; and who usually ended up spending most of his time with maps, a sextant, and a stiff drink, as he tried to keep some kind of eye on where Balbadd ships were in the world.

The Sea-General’s seal, on a sounding chart. Which made this an _official_ Balbadd sounding chart, showing some of the hidden shoals that made up half Balbadd’s natural defenses; shoals that meant anyone trying to attack the city or islands had to stick to known channels. And known channels could _always_ be blocked, if you had enough wreckage to sink. Alibaba glanced up at a very pale guard. “Lord Nalci is still the Sea-General, right?”

“He is,” the guard said faintly. “Dock-Master Shahidi hopes you can see the... difficulty.”

“Difficulty!” Cassim exploded in a snarl of back-alley profanity, vicious enough to shave splinters off ironwood. “Try disaster! Pirates would sell out their own mothers for a gold and a wenching! That a noble of Balbadd would turn over sounding charts to _pirates!_ Solomon, what did I expect, they’re all _rotten!_ ”

Alibaba brushed the chart with his fingertips, a cold fury burning alongside his fear. “Lord Nalci isn’t behind this.” He raised a hand, _wait_ , before Cassim could properly snap back. “He might be rotten but he’s not _stupid_. If someone tried to bribe him to hand over sounding charts, he’d hand some over, all right. Ones that were accurate _twenty years ago_.” He met Cassim’s gaze. “After all, pirates wreck as easy as anyone else. They missed a shoal? Oh, too bad.”

“His seal. His pirates,” Cassim said flatly.

“His pirates, playing right into the Kou Empire’s stranglehold on our trade,” Alibaba stated. “If Nalci did this, then we’re looking for another set of papers. With another seal giving the orders.”

Hassan frowned at that; they all knew the noble names connected with Balbadd maps. “But who could give Nalci orders-?”

Almost forgotten, Alibaba heard the guard squeak.

_So it’s that obvious_ , Alibaba thought. _But none of us wants to say it_. _Yet_. “I think someone needs to... talk... to certain people,” he said, eyeing the poor guard. No reason to give the guy ulcers over what might or might not happen to Lord Nalci. Not when he had his own problems. “Given the circumstances, Dock-Master Shahidi is having some difficulty determining what might be the appropriate laws to apply?”

“Y-yes,” the guard managed, staring at him. “You see, with the charts-”

“Charts?” Alibaba said, blinking as if he were hurt and surprised as he folded onionskin back up and tucked it into his belt. “What charts?”

Cassim’s grin was swift and fierce as a stooping falcon. “That’s right. They don’t actually _have_ any charts, now do they?”

“No charts, no official papers, no noble seals granting privateering rights....” Alibaba _tsk_ ed. “They’re really in a bad situation, aren’t they?”

“Pirates with a crazy story,” Cassim smirked. “And we know the law on _that_ , don’t we? Stake ‘em out for the tides.”

“Of course, if they were assuming they’d get leniency, and someone thought they might deserve it, it might be reasonable that someone’s bonds weren’t... quite tied all the way,” Alibaba said, looking at that dark hate in Cassim’s eyes. Not that he thought the pirates deserved a shred of mercy - but Cassim didn’t deserve what that hate was doing to him. “If they were willing to take their chances swimming, say, to a boat leaving Balbadd for somewhere a lot less pleasant. Dock-Master Shahidi would know if there’s a foreign ship interested in impressed seamen, wouldn’t he?”

“Could be sharks in the water,” Hasan grinned at his boss.

“Could be,” Cassim allowed, some of the stiff offense going out of his shoulders. “Couldn’t hurt for a few of them to live and spread the word about what happens to idiots who prey on Balbadd... so long as they do it _somewhere else_.”

_Not going to fall over in relief_ , Alibaba vowed. _Work to do_. He glanced at the guard, then raised an eyebrow at Cassim, and shrugged. _Your turf. Your decision_.

Cassim eyed him, then looked at the guard with that cool, measuring gaze. “You tell Dock-Master Shahidi that if he’s got any more _problems_ like this... we both want to know about them.”

The guard nodded, wide-eyed. Turned on his booted heel, and all but bolted out the door.

Cassim grinned, and waved his cigar around the room to include them all. “Skittish little guy, wasn’t he?”

“I can’t blame him,” Alibaba admitted. “You sure scare _me_.”

The corner of Cassim’s lips curled. “You don’t act like it.”

“Practice,” Alibaba shrugged. And sighed. “Now we’ve got to get in contact with Sindria.”

Cassim scowled. “If you want to call on a foreign king to come in and meddle when we’re already fighting an empire....”

Alibaba held up empty hands. “I didn’t say Sinbad, Cassim. I said _Sindria_. We need to hire a water magician.”

Hassan was gaping at him. Looked at Cassim in disbelief. “Is he serious?”

Zainab was looking at Alibaba’s belt, and the damning map tucked into it. “Like the legends. You think we can _hire_ someone like Yahya Barmaki to tear out new channels, and shred up old ones?”

“If the pirates and the Kou Empire have charts, then we make sure the charts are wrong.” Alibaba gave Cassim a daring look. “You’ve heard the stories of Sindria’s Maharagans. If their magicians and warriors can handle South Sea monsters, why not a little channel-wrecking?”

Cassim tapped some ash off his cigar, thinking. “If they can do it, it won’t be cheap.”

“I know that,” Alibaba said levelly.

“Sea’s your turf.”

_So I’m paying for it_ , Alibaba filled in. “I know that too.”

“And,” Cassim raised the smoldering end, “if you do find a water magician who can make channels, what stops them from making their own for Sindria to use later? And what stops Kou from making them, charts or no charts? You say they’ve got magic.”

Oof. “Good point,” Alibaba said steadily. Took a breath, and tried to think. “Kou... if they could just blast their way into our harbor, I think they would have tried that already. I’m not sure,” because oh Solomon, what if Kou had a _Water_ Djinn, they would be so _screwed_ , “but so far, they haven’t. For the rest... we need a magician loyal to Balbadd.”

“Not going to find one in Sindria,” Cassim said flatly.

“Are you sure?” Alibaba rubbed one hand over the knuckles of the other, thinking hard. “King Rashid helped Sinbad when he needed it. Some of Sinbad’s people might want to return the favor. And if we have legends of water magicians... maybe we can find someone. Or teach them. Or hire a Sindrian magician to teach people.”

_And maybe we could find a magi_....

It was the longest of long shots. But he had to believe Aladdin was out there. Somewhere.

_Wherever you are, I hope you’re in less trouble than I am!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I got to “sounding charts are critically important” by investigating why Balbadd doesn’t have slavery.  
> Slavery being something that _doesn’t happen in Balbadd_ is a canon plot-critical point; it exists everywhere else in the Magi world, one way or another. Yet with all the other awful things happening in Balbadd – plagues, starvation, nobles abusing the poor, etc. – until Al-Thamen gets their hooks in the place, that one awful thing _isn’t there._   
>  Given how Alibaba explains slavery to Aladdin in canon – mentioning that Morgiana was probably taken prisoner in a war – that’s probably the Standard Option in the Magi ‘verse, as indeed it was most places in history up until fairly recently in historical times. So why isn’t it in Balbadd?  
> Canon, Rashid detested slavery – but we know from RL, one ruler hating something isn’t enough to get a whole culture to dump a bad habit. (See the history of England, James the First, and tobacco.) Which implies that slavery _not being part of Balbadd_ predates Rashid, and is part of Balbadd’s culture. Hence the complete shock of everyone, from nobles to street rats, when Abhmad decides to make Balbadd a slave-trading state. (And use his own citizenry. Brrr.)  
>  So I went looking for RL examples of a place like Balbadd; islands, one city on the mainland, living off trade and their wits. I found Venice, circa 12th to 16th centuries AD. It’s not a perfect match. Venice allowed slavery – but they didn’t apparently approve of it much. And one place they never allowed slaves was on their warships.  
> Venetians, you see, were sailors and merchant-warriors first; venturing onto dry land was for suckers. In part because Venetian ships had a significant military advantage: they were tested out in Venice’s lagoons, the equivalent of a secret airbase, before any other country ever saw them on the sea.  
> That archipelago network – that interconnected mess of islands, water, and dry land – is one of the key factors that has to have shaped Balbadd. Like Venice, Balbadd has survived by trade; and like them, caught between a host of other nations that do support standing armies, Balbadd has to have been performing the ultimate political, mercantile, and espionage high-wire act. Balbadd merchants go everywhere; meaning a lot of the time there will be a very small group of Balbadd natives surrounded by people who may not like having been sharped in the last trade deal, and who might get together and do something about it. And when they’re at home? Well, that network of islands, canals, etc, is one big watery wall between them and the rest of the world. Oh, there are maps; Balbadd maps (like Venice had them), that no one not loyal to the nation ever sees. If war comes, they can rip out the channel markers and trust their own memories and maps to take them through. Invading ships would not be so lucky.  
> Unless, of course, some damn idiot has sold the maps. Or let someone of dubious loyalties get into a position to make maps.   
> And this is the big reason Balbadd is better off not having slaves. They need to trust each other.  
> ...This also implies that to those who don’t know Balbadd, the natives may have an undeserved reputation for being bloodthirsty in a fight. After all, if you’re not going to take defeated enemy prisoners as slaves, the other obvious option is not taking prisoners....  
> Those who do know Balbadd know they wouldn’t get off that easy. *Grin* If a Balbadd ship has you between the devil and the deep blue sea, they don’t kill you. They just... make a very advantageous Deal.  
> “We win. By your laws, that means you belong to us. But hauling you back would be such a hassle....What say you hand over all your valuables, all your cargo, and get the hell out of here? And don’t let the tide hit you on the way out....”  
> Or as Kryal put it: “What? You don’t have the standard ransom? Really, Captain! Look at this lady of yours - why, is that Sindrian silk I see in those sails? And the caulking! Yes, you clearly tend this dear lady very well. And you don’t have the finances to maintain her? Oh, what a tragic story.... Here, let me help you out, we can drop you off at the nearest port secure in the knowledge that this beauty will be maintained in the manner to which she is accustomed and most clearly deserves....”


	6. You're who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Politics, sneaking, and a frustrated Al-Thamen magician. Balbadd has interesting nightlife....

“Let’s skip the formalities.” Sinbad sat straight in the Salujas’ royal reception room, one knee crossed over the other and almost bouncing with calculated impatience as he stared down Rashid’s elder sons. “Restart trade with Sindria. You’re one of our most valuable trading partners. Both countries profit from the flow of goods north and south. Cutting off your trade with us makes no _sense_.”

Which had to be the argument Merhdad had used on his intrepid smugglers - whoever that elusive head smuggler might really be. Ja’far and Masrur had each picked up some interesting rumors. The ex-assassin in particular had a certain cold glitter in his eyes that meant he’d come across something vital in the early light just before they’d arrived at Abhmad’s door... but not something they could talk about _here_. Damn it.

_Still, we have to ask_ , Sinbad reflected, as Abhmad sputtered about what a long time it’d been, obviously buying time to think. _It affects our strategy, going forward. Are Rashid’s sons really this stupid, or are they under pressure from the Kou? Or, worse - subtler pressure, from those_ behind _the Kou Empire?_

Of course, it could be all of the above. Rashid would never, ever have let himself get into the shape Abhmad had; guards or no guards, the merchant Harun had done a fair amount of running in his time, when canny bargaining and a persuasive smile didn’t work. _And_ he’d carried a sword, with full intent to use it. Abhmad didn’t look like he knew which was the pointy end. And as for quiver-at-his-own-shadow Sabhmad....

_If this is what life in Balbadd’s court does to people, no wonder Harun never wanted to stay home_.

And maybe there’d been more than one reason Rashid had never asked for his ally’s help in finding Alibaba. However the boy had grown up before Rashid had taken him in, the mere fact that he’d survived it meant he probably had more brains than the pair of his elder brothers put together.

_The fact that he_ disappeared _should be proof_ , Sinbad thought wryly. _No one sane would walk back into this palace to stay. Not without chasing the courtiers out with a whip, first_.

Ah. Abhmad was finally winding down from the flowery deflections of actual fact. Sinbad kept his face intent, as if he’d been listening all along.

“-I cannot restore trade with Sindria while Balbadd is torn with internal strife!”

He was not going to laugh in Abhmad’s face. “I’d think that would be the best reason to restore trade. People busy making money aren’t causing trouble.”

Well, that wasn’t _always_ true, as Rashid would undoubtedly attest if he were here. But the principle did hold for most people who weren’t afflicted with either crowns, Djinn, or an unquenchable thirst to change the world.

Of course, if you had all three, you were pretty much doomed to be trouble. Or so his Generals had told him. Many times.

“Huh! Making _money_ ,” Abhmad sniffed, nose in the air. “I’m talking about thieves and smugglers, breaking the law!”

Somewhere in the rukh, Sinbad was sure Rashid was suppressing an urge to strangle his oldest son. Had the youngster paid no attention to his history lessons? Balbadd had been _founded_ by the biggest smuggler of them all. There were reasons they called the great Silver River of stars the Straw Thief’s Way. What most nations considered theft, a desperate Balbadd native would call _aggressive asset relocation_.

“Thieves and smugglers,” Sinbad said neutrally. “There must be quite a lot of them, to thwart Balbadd’s loyal guards.”

“Not so many at first,” Abhmad said darkly. “The Fog Troupe used to be about forty pickpockets from the slums, led by a murdering scum called Cassim. They stole the treasury three years ago, leading to the death of our beloved father... now they’re terrorists, dealing with the smugglers! This Merhdad-” Abhmad’s teeth ground, “-we can’t even find out his real name! No one from Partevia will admit who he might be.”

_He might not even be from Partevia_ , Sinbad thought wryly. _Harun wasn’t a Balbadd name, either_. But if Abhmad hadn’t even thought of that- ah well. It looked like they were going to have a lot of investigating to do down by the docks. Especially in the taverns. Especially those with ladies smiling for honest and not-so-honest sailors....

Er. He could feel Ja’far’s glare boring into the back of his head. And he hadn’t even done anything!

...And that other prickle down his neck had to be Masrur glaring. Which was not fair. At all.

“They have _magic_ ,” Abhmad ranted on, waving a pudgy fist. “Strange powers, that make our foolish guards cower at their own shadows. Powers they use to steal what’s ours. And the people love them for it!”

Sabhmad shuddered. “They say when Merhdad’s smugglers pass a guardpost, every light goes out. As if they can steal away the soul of flame itself.”

... _Hello_. Sinbad tried not to smile like a wolf. _They have Magic Tools. Now this sounds interesting_.

Very, very interesting. Not least because _they have magic_ led to, _so where did they get it?_

One possible source was obvious, given they clearly dealt in fear. Kou and Al-Thamen both wanted unrest in Balbadd; Sinbad could even see them giving out Magic Tools to get it. But Al-Thamen wanted more than just enough strife to take over. They wanted Abnormalities in the world. Hatred, pain, despair; they warped kingdoms to cause it as if they were locusts feeding on a crop of good grain. And from the little Yamraiha had found out about the Black Rukh, that might be literally true.

_Yet the smugglers are bringing life to Balbadd. They’re fighting for her soul, no matter how her king is failing_.

Which led to the other possible source. There’d been more than enough Dungeons cleared in the past decade for curious items to turn up almost anywhere. It wasn’t impossible that a small group loyal to their country, if not to their king, had stumbled on a cache of magic and decided to put it to good use.

“We’ve hired captains to catch the smugglers,” Abhmad grumbled, “but they’re expensive. And they’ll cost more now that one of their ships has vanished-” He cut himself off with a _hmph_. “You want trade started, why don’t _you_ deal with them!”

Ja’far didn’t react, Sinbad noted. Ja’far’s face was so diplomatically bland, it might as well have shouted that the government official wanted to hand the reins right over to the never-quite-retired assassin and leave these _lying scum_ drowning in pools of their own blood.

Sinbad smiled, free and easy, laughing maniacally inside. “Maybe I will.” After all, _dealing with_ held so many, _many_ possibilities....

From the wary flicker of Sabhmad’s gaze between Sinbad and his brother, he could hear at least some of that unspoken promise.

_But he’s leaving it to me_ , Sinbad judged. _Huh. There is a brain over there. Just a scared one_.

So he’d roll the dice, and trust that just maybe, Rashid’s second son had some of the intelligence that had skipped his older brother. It fit what he’d planned to do anyway.

_But if Abhmad is smarter than he looks... sorry, kid. You don’t need him suspecting you_.

Steel flashed, and he had a knife driven into the table.

_There. Now you’re quivering so hard, Abhmad will never guess you clued us in_.

“I’ll deal with the Fog Troupe, and this... Merhdad,” Sinbad stated. “It might take a few days.” He yanked his knife out with a thin smile; Ja’far would be so proud. “Let’s hope they’re profitable for everyone.”

* * *

_I never thought Balbadd would be this_ big.

Still chewing on a few soft eumera snapper bones, Morgiana looked over the canal by the hotel, trying to sort out the city’s dizzying mix of sights, sounds, and scents. The sea itself was a stronger scent than she ever could have imagined; fish and salt and dead plants and shellfish and who knew what else.

_All that water you can’t even drink. It’s... strange_.

The whole city was strange. Enormous, in a way oasis cities never could be, and so green; even bits of greenery in the poorest alleys, here and there. No dunes would march over unlucky villages in Balbadd’s reach.

Morgiana crunched a bone between her teeth as Aladdin made funny faces at Masrur, her tongue thoughtfully twirling shards to get any last marrow-flavor out before she swallowed. _I thought that when we got here, I could walk the streets, like Qishan. I know Alibaba’s scent; in the desert, I could find him. Here? I’d have to have a fresh trail. And it’s so big!_

So much bigger than Qishan. Yet despite all the chaotic differences, one thing hadn’t changed.

_Fear_ , Morgiana thought, seeing again the worried glances in near-empty marketplaces. _The people here are afraid, and helpless with it. Like Qishan_.

But not all of them. It was curious; so strange she almost hadn’t recognized it, in the way one of the guards who’d accosted them had been casually hanging back, the careful looks of some of those in the strangely empty markets sizing up clothes and road dust to figure out where she’d come from, the odd pride of the maid who’d cleaned their rooms as she jangled bits of steel and copper in a hidden pouch. Aladdin hadn’t seen that, and he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. Morgiana had.

_Defiance_.

Many of the people here looked beaten; some of them were broken. But some... some were just _acting_.

_I don’t have Alibaba’s scent here_. Morgiana’s eyes narrowed. _But I know who breaks invisible chains_.

“...So the execution was botched?” Sin kept his voice low, but not low enough.

“I don’t think so.” Ja’far’s voice was just as whisper-quiet. “I think some of the ropes were left loose. Just enough that a stubborn, determined sailor might wiggle free... if he was willing to swim for it.”

“And a Reimish ship just left the harbor.” Sin nodded, a wry satisfaction curling his lips. “They wouldn’t mind adding a few impressed sailors to the oars, now would they?”

“Execution?” Morgiana asked, no longer bothering to hide that she was listening. Even if Aladdin did eep, and whirl toward them both with big eyes.

“You’re from the Oasis Cities, yes?” Sin leaned on his table, regarding them both gravely. “Then you wouldn’t know the local penalty for being caught as a pirate. Especially if you’re caught as a _slave-taking_ pirate.”

“Sin,” Ja’far frowned.

“They need to know. It’s important - especially if you’re right about the ropes.” The merchant breathed in, as if fortifying himself with the taste of the sea. “Balbadd doesn’t like pirates. If they catch them... they stake them out between high and low tide. And leave them, until three tides go over them.”

Morgiana nodded, accepting that. “Tides?”

“Ah. The moon pulls on the sea.” Sin lifted and lowered his hand. “The sea comes up the shore at high tide, sinks to low tide, and comes back again. Every day. Sometimes several times a day, it depends on where you are in the world.”

Aladdin gulped. “Wouldn’t that... kind of... drown someone?”

“That is the idea,” Ja’far said bluntly. “Pirates are like seagoing bandits. Only instead of chasing you off the road, they toss you overboard in the middle of salt water, where the sharks are waiting to eat you.”

“...Eeep.”

Morgiana frowned. “So why does taking slaves make a difference?”

Sin blinked, caught off-guard. “This is Balbadd.”

Morgiana frowned harder. “So?”

Sin’s jaw dropped. He looked at his companions.

Masrur had a slight smile. “It was a surprise, to find out.”

Sin shook his head, and looked at her with... something soft in his eyes, she didn’t know what to call it. “There are no slaves in Balbadd.”

Morgiana blinked. Looked at Masrur. They had to be trying to trick her. “There’s slavery _everywhere_.”

“Not in Balbadd,” Masrur said bluntly. “And not in Sindria. No slaves. Ever.”

_“Oh.”_ Aladdin blinked somberly, as if he were looking beyond Sin to all the dizzying city around them. “So that’s why it made Alibaba so sad. It’s that common?”

“Yes,” Sin said, one brow rising in curiosity. “Unfortunately, it is. Where did you say you met Alibaba, again?”

“Oh - in his wagon, eating his watermelons,” Aladdin said brightly. And ducked his head a bit. “Only they weren’t exactly his, and he kind of got in trouble.... So if being a pirate is so bad, why did somebody let some of them get away?”

Morgiana hid a grin. So he had been paying attention. Good.

“Because Abhmad is a fool,” Ja’far said coldly. “A blind one, who can’t even see he’s driving his own people to defy him.”

“You’re not sure of that,” Sin murmured.

“I suppose I could be surer if the dock-master handed me a signed confession,” Ja’far smirked. “He might as well have, to anyone paying attention. The speed at which he made sure those executions were carried out....”

Oh. _That_ made sense. Morgiana nodded, relieved she finally had something familiar to grasp. “He was trying to be sure those he didn’t let loose were dead before anyone above him could interfere.” That, she’d seen before, as a slave to Lord Jamil. Usually whoever was responsible only got away with it _once_. “So... what made those men pirates to him and everyone else, but not pirates to his lord?”

Masrur’s eyes crinkled. Like a tough old alley-cat, smiling at a kitten. Morgiana felt her cheeks heat up, and glanced away.

“A piece of paper someone made very sure they didn’t have,” Ja’far stated. “They claimed to be privateers.”

“ _Licensed_ pirates, so to speak,” Sin filled in for the both of them. “If one country’s at war with another but doesn’t have enough ships of its own, it might license independent captains to attack enemy shipping. Balbadd and Sindria both have laws covering that, but only under limits. One of which is no taking of slaves - and _always_ allow a surrender.”

“Not to mention, never attack your own ships,” Ja’far said dryly. “The dock-master announced to the crowd that these pirates claimed they were authorized to attack _Balbadd ships_. Very loudly.” He struck a haughty pose. “How could I believe such a preposterous claim when they attacked our own ships?”

Aladdin smiled, eyes bright as he appreciated a fellow mimic. Placed his hands on the table, and looked up at all Sin’s people. “So whose ships did they really attack?”

“Now here’s where it gets complicated.” Sin grinned. “And interesting.”

Morgiana raised a curious brow.

“We don’t know for sure, of course, but the odds are they _did_ attack Balbadd ships,” Sin stated. “Just... not ships that are following King Abhmad’s rules.”

Morgiana squinted at him. Because that was someone being _clever_. Around Lord Jamil, that had never ended well.

But Aladdin was scratching his head, blinking a lot. “So... the privateers are really bandits, but someone hired them to do it? And the smugglers are kind of bandits too, but - they’re the ones bringing in the trade in all those marketplaces Morgiana says get used when no one’s looking, aren’t they? Which means... they’re bandits, but they’re helping?” He whistled. “Wow. This is a _mess_.”

“I know it sounds confusing,” Sin started.

“But that’s a good thing!” Aladdin beamed at him. “If things are this crazy, Alibaba has to be around here somewhere!”

Ja’far choked back a snicker, as Sin raised a wary purple brow. “You think so?” He glanced between the pair of them, looking very interested indeed. “How did you meet him, again?”

Meeting in the street - well, that hadn’t been a meeting, not with chains and a mission between them. In the wagon with the slaves, likewise. So.... “He pulled me out of a desert hyacinth.”

It was kind of _fun_ , watching them blink.

“A desert hyacinth.” Ja’far’s voice was a little funny. “The man-eating plant that swallows whole caravans.”

Morgiana nodded.

“How...?”

“Ugo helped,” Aladdin shrugged. “But Alibaba went in to get Morg and the little girl out. He’s really brave. Even if he says he isn’t.”

“Ugo.” Sin blinked once, as if trying to picture her, Alibaba, and a desert hyacinth, and anyone coming out alive. “Another friend of yours?”

“Oh right; I haven’t introduced him!” Aladdin picked up his flute.

Knowing what would come next, Morgiana stepped back and sideways.

_“Fweeet!”_

Blue arms emerged, and bumped knuckles with a very surprised Masrur.

As the Djinn finished solidifying, Aladdin grinned at them all. “He likes you guys already!”

* * *

_A magi. Aladdin is_.... Sinbad caught himself gaping, and shook his head to try and get rational thought back on track. _He can’t be a magi! Three magi in the world, that’s all. Yunan, Judar, and Scheherazade. I know they’re all alive. Aladdin can’t be_....

Sinbad looked at the muscular, flute-headed Djinn sitting beside Aladdin again, and told what he thought he knew to stuff it.

“Remind me to kill Sharrkan when we get back,” Ja’far murmured, paler than usual.

He didn’t think Ja’far was serious. He _hoped_ Ja’far wasn’t serious. “Why?”

“He offered up that toast. Remember? _May you have an interesting trip_.”

“I’ll help,” Masrur nodded.

_Aladdin is a magi_. Sinbad clapped a hand to his head; trying to reorient himself to here and now, rather than amazed awe. _Aladdin... is a ten-year-old magi who apparently has no idea most people don’t bring out Djinn to make friends, in the middle of a city targeted by the Kou Empire, and so by Al-Thamen_.

_Interesting_ didn’t even begin to cover it.

_We can’t let him get away_.

For his safety and Sindria’s. Al-Thamen was doing more than enough damage with one magi at their beck and call. Two? There’d be no way even the Seven Seas Alliance could contain that much mayhem.

_We can’t let him get away... and we’d damn well better find his friend_.

Use Aladdin’s Alibaba as bait in a trap to lure in a magi, even cause him to Fall into Depravity? Al-Thamen wouldn’t even blink. Just lick their chops, and dive in.

_And that’s even if this Alibaba isn’t Rashid’s son_ , Sinbad told himself. _If he is - Solomon. Magi, prince, and Balbadd in one fell swoop? They’d offer up thanks in their black hearts for such a perfect plan._

_No wonder the rukh led us here_.

Sinbad focused on the boy who might be more dangerous than all his Generals put together. “Aladdin. You’re a magi too?”

Because the only thing worse than the boy knowing how dangerous he could be, was _not_ knowing. There was no way even Sindria could protect a magi from the whole world. Better, far better, to get Aladdin prepared to protect himself.

Morgiana gave him a dark-lashed look, wary as a jungle cat. Even Aladdin looked startled. “Too? Mister Sin, do you know another magi?”

“I do,” Sinbad admitted, reaching out to touch the odd warmth of solidified rukh. Solid. Real as Baal had been, that day he’d faced down the entire Partevian army camped around the fallen Dungeon. “Although Yunan and I aren’t exactly close....” There. Give the boy a name to look for, in case everything went wrong and he was separated from Sindria after all. “But yes. I’ve seen a little of what a magi can do.” Often from the wrong end of Judar’s lightning bolts. Ouch.

“Who are you?” Morgiana asked quietly. “You’re not just a merchant.”

“Well, I have been,” Sinbad objected, oddly hurt. She wasn’t charmed. How could she not be charmed? Granted, Fanalis, they tended to coo more over things with obvious teeth - but it was a horrible, horrible blow. “But you’re right that I’m not just a merchant. I,” he swept a hand grandly toward himself, with a jaunty little bow, “am _Sinbad_.”

Silence.

Behind him, Sinbad swore he heard Ja’far muffle a snicker.

“Um... you’re who?” Aladdin wondered.

This was just not happening. “Sinbad,” a very frustrated king said again. “You know, the Legend of Sinbad? The Sailor of the Seven Seas?”

“Playboy of the Seven Seas,” Masrur murmured.

Damn it, Morgiana would have heard that. Not fair. “Capturer of seven Dungeons! The man who built Sindria with his own hands - and loyal friends to help,” he added quickly, feeling Ja’far’s pointy glare. “You know, _Sinbad!_ ”

“Oh!” Aladdin jumped in place, eyes alight with recognition. “Like in the book Alibaba had!”

A _caravan driver_ had a book. A caravan driver who could _read_ , and who’d spent some of whatever little funds he had on a book. About the legends of dungeons.

_Thank Solomon we found Aladdin first_ , Sinbad thought, not sure if he should laugh or cry. _If he’d started spreading that tidbit around Balbadd, no one could doubt who he was looking for_. “Yes, exactly. And if you’re right, and your friend is here, he’s probably one of two places. Either with the Fog Troupe; robbers who seem to be causing havoc in Balbadd, but who are also defying Abhmad’s laws to help trade move through the city. Or with the smugglers themselves.” Because he could see the two groups reluctantly cooperating, yes, given each of them was apparently using magic and none of them wanted the Kou Empire taking over, but really. What were the odds Abhmad was right, and the two groups were part of some great conspiracy against the monarchy?

...Granted, with a magi involved, the odds went up considerably. Magi were beloved by the rukh. It did things around them that made eerie coincidences fall out of the sky like rain.

_Ah. And speaking of_. “Try not to tell people you’re a magi,” Sinbad said soberly. “Some countries have been known to hunt those with magical power. You have the potential for great magic, Aladdin, but right now you don’t have enough training to defend yourself from even an ordinary magician. And....” _Tell them, don’t tell them; better to drop at least a hint_. “My people have heard rumors of malevolent magic being used by agents of the Kou Empire. It’s better if you save Ugo’s power for a surprise, and only use it in emergencies.”

Aladdin nodded, surprisingly solemn. “I can’t have him out too long; I get hungry and tired, too. But I wanted him to meet you, before we go looking for Alibaba.” He looked out over the canal, and seemed to deflate, a boy once again. “But Balbadd’s so _big_. Where do we even start?”

“With the Fog Troupe,” Morgiana said plainly. “People will know where to find robbers. Or know who will know. Smugglers... they could be on ships, other islands, and we’d never know where to look.”

“Not a bad plan,” Sinbad allowed. Very straightforward. Would make excellent use of a Fanalis’ skills at violence. He’d use it himself, if he didn’t have a better option. “But Ja’far overheard the dock-master tell everyone who came to witness the execution that the pirates claimed to have privateer’s privileges, yet they were enslaving citizens of Balbadd-”

“Covering for his masters,” Ja’far said darkly.

“Well, yes, anyone who hired pirates in the first place won’t take kindly to finding out they failed,” Sinbad agreed. “But _how_ did they fail? Dock-Master Shahidi doesn’t have a coast guard. And yet he had pirates - pirates whose guilt he didn’t doubt in the slightest - delivered to his front door.”

“You mean, the smugglers brought them,” Aladdin realized, stepping back to lean against Ugo’s comforting solidity. “They brought people to be executed, that’s really scary....”

“You say Shahidi worked fast.” Morgiana looked between the three Sindrians. “The smugglers are still here.”

Masrur nodded. Glanced at Ja’far. “Merhdad?”

“He’s the one we need to find,” Ja’far agreed. “The rumors weren’t definite - but people believe he’s in port. _Now_. We have to catch him before his ship sails again.”

“He’s the most likely person to have word on your friend,” Sinbad agreed. “But we can’t ignore the Fog Troupe. Those I’ve spoken to say they’re carrying magical weapons.” He paused, deliberately, knowing how much he was glossing over for younger ears. But if their Alibaba wasn’t Rashid’s son they might never need to know... and if he was, it’d be better to tell them all at once. “There are two sources I know of for Magic Tools. One is the Dungeons; and if they’ve won their weapons from such a place, the only danger is how they’re using them. But the other....”

“Is the Kou Empire, right?” Aladdin said thoughtfully. “Why does the Empire want to hurt Balbadd? What did Balbadd ever....” He trailed off, eyes distant.

“Aladdin?” Morgiana put a hand on his shoulder, eyes shaded with worry.

“Alibaba hates slavery,” Aladdin stated. “You said he freed every slave in Qishan, right?”

Morgiana nodded. Sinbad tried not to stare. Freeing one Fanalis was remarkable enough; the people who held them, didn’t give them up cheaply. Or willingly. Freeing every slave in an _entire city?_

_He has to be Rashid’s son. No one else could scam enough money to pull that off!_

“Alibaba hates slavery, and slavery is everywhere else. In the Kou Empire, too, right?” Aladdin waited for Sinbad’s fascinated nod. “Then that’s why they came after Balbadd. Alibaba grew up here. He’s not the only one who hates slavery. If the Kou Empire’s coming this way, they would have run into all kinds of people who wanted that to stop.”

_A nice dream_ , Sinbad thought. _But Rashid never_ -

_...Rashid never had a magi behind him_.

For a moment, Sinbad felt all his plans go tilt. Because no, the Kou Empire wouldn’t really care if Balbadd had slavery or not, Balbadd was _in its way_ -

_But Al-Thamen would_.

Al-Thamen lived to spread war, disease, misery, and slavery. To poison the rukh and turn it black, the better to fuel their power.

Balbadd _defied_ the black rukh. Under Rashid, at least as long as the man had been well, Balbadd had been a bright beacon in the rukh; a place so bright, in places, it’d made Yamraiha squint to look. It wasn’t perfect. There was poverty and crime and disease, like any nation. But there was always the hope of something _better_. A future people could reach out and grab with both hands, brought in with every turn of the tide.

“Do you know,” Sinbad said, half to himself, “I think you might be right.”

“Sin?”

And that was Ja’far’s, _I know you just had an idea, how much damage is it going to do?_ tone. Really. You’d think the ex-assassin didn’t _trust_ him.

“I have to admit, I have a problem,” Sinbad shrugged, trying to look a little sheepish. “We really need to search for both groups, as soon as possible. But I don’t have my Metal Vessels-”

“He lost them,” Ja’far said dryly. “To thieves.”

Well, yes, but things would work out. They always did. “My companions and I could hunt down one group tonight, but not both,” Sinbad stated. “Masrur and I can handle finding the Fog Troupe. Would you be willing to lend your strength to Ja’far, to find Merhdad’s smugglers?” He waved a hand at the face-palming assassin. “Ja’far is Sindria’s minister. He has the authority to determine if, indeed, these smugglers should be considered legitimate prey for other ships... or if they need our help.”

Aladdin sucked in a breath. “But how could you think that-!”

“I don’t know them,” Sinbad said practically. “They seem to be helping the people of Balbadd. But for what purpose? Even if their intentions are good, they’re breaching the king’s law. And if they’re working with the Fog Troupe, as many claim - Cassim, their leader, is known to be a criminal. Sindria has to have more information on what Merhdad is doing, and _why_ , before we can decide whether or not we should intervene.” He paused. “But I would never stand between friends. If you can find Alibaba, you have the best chance of helping everyone.”

Gray eyes narrowed at him. _And you want me babysitting. Again_.

Sinbad let his gaze flicker toward the Djinn, and back. _Do you want me to take a young, untrained magi near a band of thieves and robbers who may be Falling into Depravity?_ “You are one of my best at finding people who don’t want to be found, Ja’far.”

Someone who hadn’t known the assassin for years would never have seen that tiny, resigned slump.

Masrur reached over and patted Ja’far’s shoulder, with a gentleness that still surprised Sinbad, no matter how long he’d known Fanalis controlled their strength. _It’s okay. No matter what interesting trouble Sinbad finds, I can still pick him up and carry him. Like pulling a kitten off a lion’s tail_.

Argh. Annoying, especially because it was true. Masrur would haul him out by the scruff of his neck, if he felt a mess warranted it. Which was comforting, in a way, but... he never wanted to have to _need_ it.

...The fact that Ja’far was smiling did not make him feel any better.

“If you’re willing to accept my help,” Ja’far inclined his head to the magi and girl, “I would be glad to assist you in finding your friend.”

“Er, wait,” Sinbad started. He might be sly and sometimes ruthless, but he had manners. “The smugglers might not like being found. I can’t ask a girl to walk into what might be a fight! Perhaps the young lady-”

Masrur gave him a _look_ , as Morgiana’s toes clenched on paving stone.

And shattered it.

“I’m going to find Alibaba,” Morgiana declared.

The pout, Sinbad decided, made it even scarier. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ja’far’s cough might have covered a laugh. “Now that we’ve settled that, we should determine which areas of the city to cover in our search. From the whispers I heard around the docks, I suspect the Fog Troupe will pay a visit to a certain nobleman, very soon....”

* * *

Wrapped in shadows to conceal him from ordinary eyes in the night, Ithnan stood on Lord Nalci’s roof to look over the streets leading down to the port, trying to figure out just what had gone sideways in Balbadd.

On the surface, it was obvious. A city that should have been seething with black rukh was....

Well. There was no little amount of black rukh about, true. But there was an annoying, persistent sprinkling of light throughout the city, like a dance of stubborn fireflies.

_...This can’t possibly be Sinbad’s work_.

No; in some ways, that wildly unpredictable soul was all _too_ predictable. If Sinbad were behind this, Balbadd would be a fountain of blinding light, as the Conqueror of the Seven Seas rallied minds and souls to strive against the gathering darkness. A deadly, dire fountain - but _one_ target to fight. Al-Thamen could have allowed it. Let Balbadd’s hopes rise, the better to shatter them utterly.

This... _dispersed_ light, was far more frustrating.

_We’ll have to swat every soul who bears it, one by one. Il Ilah, the time, the headache_.... _Argh. Optimists!_

They’d waited a thousand years to wreak their revenge and free his heart-brother Setta from Solomon’s tainted rukh. They could wait a little longer. But even the greatest patience would do him no good if he didn’t understand _how this had happened_.

Mannequin hands caressed his staff, as Ithnan reviewed what he knew of Kou’s plan to take Balbadd; and Al-Thamen’s own plans, started decades before, to weaken it in preparation. First, the infiltration of some of their number amongst those serving the nobility, to lure the court into more and more decadent behaviors. Cautiously done, that itself was enough to drive a wedge between King Rashid and his nobles, most especially his noble wife. They’d barely needed to interfere in the royal family past that. Oh, a bit of unrest stirred in the city here, a few seeds of plague there... Abhmad was weak and easily led, all too ready to be the next tyrannical head to fall to a Kou executioner’s sword.

Yet some months ago, something had _changed_ in Balbadd.

_And our Banker has no idea_ when _it changed_.

That was truly frustrating. Markko had been efficient and effective at leading Balbadd’s nobles by their noses into more and more debt; something he never could have done without intelligence and subtlety, even with a few quiet persuasion spells to smooth the way. And yet, somehow, he’d _missed_ this.

Ithnan studied the flows of rukh, how light and dark both intensified closer to the docks, and let out a thoughtful breath. _He missed it, because our enemy_ ignored _the nobles, and went for the people_.

Specifically, the merchants; and apparently just about every small craftsman, fisher, and farmer in Balbadd in the bargain. More and more of whom had simply stopped relying on the Fan, no matter what their king decreed. Oh, some of them would come up with enough of it to pay taxes, barely; but more and more royal tax collectors were turning up with empty coffers, as wide-eyed citizens declared that they could _of course_ pay taxes in a tithe of goods, but they couldn’t produce Fan they didn’t have....

Empty coffers that should have _increased_ the nobles’ incessant demand for the Fan, to speed more Imperial trade into Balbadd. Only - they hadn’t.

_Because our unknown enemy dragged trade into the harbor kicking and screaming, then persuaded those who needed it to barter rather than buy_ , Ithnan thought sourly. _A persuasion that has moved on not to the nobles, but to those who_ serve _the nobles - and those who run the household and larder handle most of a palace’s expenses. If they refuse to use the Fan, the nobles’ spending of it apparently drops down a well_.

Worse, this avoidance of the Fan was beginning to spread to other kingdoms, as well. The Empire had even caught a few overconfident smugglers on Kou’s own conquered shores, trying to persuade new citizens to deal in goods rather than paper.

_If this continues, our entire Empire might crumble!_

The very fact he’d had to learn that was infuriating. He was a magician, of ancient power this world could barely imagine. If Al-Thamen left the shadows to move openly, he’d simply wipe this nation from the face of the world. Having to deal with commerce in fish and cloth and _nails_ , by Il Ilah....

_When I find this Merhdad, he will regret it._ Ithan’s smile was a flash of teeth behind his veil. _Briefly._

What, precisely, he would do to Merhdad would depend on what he found. It was possible a simple assassination would be best.

_Possible. This is, after all, such a nonmagical interference with our plan_ , Ithnan reflected. _There is no magoi in this plot. Just human stubbornness, and hope. Damn Solomon for that hope-!_

Ithnan grimaced, and calmed himself. After all, if this Merhdad was just a normal human - well, death would probably put an end to his meddling. Particularly a protracted, gruesome death, either at the hands of Abhmad’s executioners, or his hired pirates.

_That was a stroke of moderate intelligence_ , the dark magician thought. _Who better to catch sea-rats than their own kind?_

Only if Dock-Master Shahidi had been willing to execute some of those pirates, something had gone wrong.

_Well - wrong for now_ , Ithnan thought, smirking at the image of the noble quaking in his bed below this very roof. _For if those who prowl the docks have learned enough that the pirates’ fate was sealed... then they know enough to attack here, as well_.

And they would. Cassim was many things, but forgiving was not one of them. Ithnan had made certain of that before ever bestowing his... gifts, on the Fog Troupe. The gang-leader was the perfect candidate; strong magoi paired with a rukh just on the edge of Falling, driven by hate and desperation. A source of ever-growing chaos in the crumbling kingdom of Balbadd, inflaming his followers with hope that would in turn become black as night when it was clear there was no hope left....

_Ah. Here come my little presents_.

Light and dark, with both swirling around Cassim like a dust-devil in the desert, rukh even more intense than it’d been seven months ago. Whatever was amiss in Balbadd, Cassim had to have encountered it....

_But it’s only strengthened his resolve_. Ithnan smiled behind his veil, cold and sharp, watching the angry mob advance on Lord Nalci’s mansion. _Well. I think it’s time this arms dealer made a discreet exit_.

After all, Lord Nalci’s death wouldn’t be nearly enough to slake the Fog Troupe’s bloodlust. It would only whet that dark hunger - and set all Abhmad’s guards after them, howling for their lives. Cassim would need more weapons. Many, many more.

_And if he has to crawl to me to get them... his despair will only grow_.

With a grim nod, Ithnan took off into the night.

* * *

_This is going to get messy_.

Zainab followed her boss anyway, eyes flicking to dark alleys to be sure they were the only trouble about this night. After all, once some very angry merchants learned about the soundings map, “Merhdad” might not be able to hold them back.

_Might not_ , Zainab thought, breathing in the clear sea air of Balbadd’s night, as yet untouched by her illusory fog. _But I’m betting he can_.

After all, Alibaba had the confidence to _back off_ , and let the Fog Troupe handle this mess. The strength to trust his reluctant allies to do what they needed to do to protect their half of Balbadd. And the hope - that impossible, bottomless _well_ of hope Alibaba had always poured out for them, even when they were all stupid kids - that Cassim was more concerned with _answers_ than bloodshed.

Honestly, Zainab was a lot more confident about that last than Alibaba had to be. Cassim - he was still angry. Still tangled up about Alibaba in a way she couldn’t sort out. But coming so close to the edge last night, and then hearing Alibaba _apologize_....

Nobles didn’t do that. Not to street rats.

_We’re not street rats. Not to him. He called us family and he_ meant _it_.

So maybe she did know part of why Cassim was tangled up. It made the world go a little sideways for her, too.

Though another part of the sideways was the odd scatter of people who’d managed to get all the way from the Oasis Cities to Balbadd in the past few months. Coming _into_ the city, when almost anyone sane would be heading away.

Well, some of them did head away again. Bringing trade goods with them from everywhere, including Balbadd, to haul back to the northern cities. Leaving behind them some incredible tales of Alibaba, or Lord Alibaba, or _that crazy blond kid_ ; freeing slaves, toppling the fortress of an evil lord, and along the way starting up a trade route to bypass an impossible landslide.

Zainab didn’t believe half of it. Not even a quarter of it.

...It was that last almost-a-quarter that made her wonder.

_It makes Cassim wonder, too_ , Zainab thought, drawing her sword from under her robes as they slowed, getting ready to hit the guards. _We’re after information, not blood. Maybe we’ll kill somebody if we have to... but Cassim wants to know_ exactly _who’s betraying Balbadd_.

Which wasn’t what he would have done six months ago. Because Alibaba’s hope didn’t work in the slums. They knew that. They’d seen it all the years they’d struggled together to survive. Right?

_But the kid got out of the slums... and he’s making it work for us. So far_.

Any way you sliced it, even Cassim saw that working with Alibaba was doing the Fog Troupe good. So long as both of the two hardheaded idiots kept who was responsible for what straight.

_Would be easier if Alibaba had his own crew_ , Zainab reflected. _Those merchants are his allies, and Jahan cares about the idiot, but they don’t quite cut it_.

Well. Maybe she could sort out a few likely kids who wouldn’t cut it as robbers but might just take to merchant-stuff, and dump them on Alibaba. Preferably before he caught on fast enough to run away.

Zainab heard the thunk of tired guards’ spears resting on stone, and smiled tight-lipped, never betraying a gleam of teeth. _These guys aren’t getting away_.

She raised her Crimson Illusion Fogblade, and unleashed hell.

* * *

Masrur watched the glowing red fog spread over the guards around Nalci’s mansion, glad he and Sinbad had chosen to view events from a... higher perspective. “I can smell it. Whatever it is. Like catnip.” His nose twitched. “Ja’far might have been better here.”

Sinbad was not quite pitching himself off the roof, staring down with eager eyes. Masrur sighed, and planted a hand on the back of Sin’s tunic in case he needed to grab hold of the Idiot of the Seven Seas who could not, currently, fly.

“Now that’s _interesting_ ,” the Dungeon Capturer muttered. “Most of them are wearing masks. So it’s not something targeted, what does it do....” He trailed off as some of the guards below started to giggle and fall over, while others attacked shadows, yelling and crying out. “Huh. Catnip might not be far off, at that.”

Masrur looked over the Fog Troupe, all ghostly-pale robes and grim faces, trying to get an accurate count. About four dozen, he thought. Enough to battle the guards, even if they’d been in their right minds. More than enough of a mob to rip Lord Nalci limb from limb, even with ordinary human strength-

Pale robes moved past giggling guards, sometimes ducking the jab of spears, silent as wisps of fog.

“Disciplined,” Sinbad breathed. “Not what you’d expect of thieves, is it?”

Masrur raised a brow. After over a decade dealing with Sinbad’s mayhem, he made a determined habit of not expecting anything from anyone. That way he was never surprised by the latest shape-shifting monster, evil spell-trap, or enraged husband.

“Well, disciplined means we might be able to reason with them.” Before Masrur could grab him, Sinbad cupped his hands around his mouth and called down. “Hello, below! If you’re Cassim, we’ve been waiting for you. We’re Sindrian merchants, and we want to talk.”

_I’ll help Ja’far mangle him later_.

A young man with thick dark hair like a Yambala gladiator started, yellow eyes scanning across the street, then up-

“I hate to say it, but given what he _didn’t say_ , Dock-Master Shahidi might as well have drawn a map pointing right here,” Sinbad went on. “I suspect these overconfident gentlemen were supposed to be enough guards, but odds are Lord Nalci has them checking in with someone in the city’s night patrols. You probably have less than an hour to do... whatever it is you plan to do to him.” He straightened, arms crossed with the confidence of the Sailor of the Seven Seas. “I have to admit I’m curious just what, exactly, you do plan to do to him. Sindria detests pirates. If Nalci’s the one behind whoever attacked Balbadd ships, he might well deserve to be drawn and quartered.”

Masrur didn’t let a brow bounce, hearing the hook set in those words. _If_.

From the way fox-yellow narrowed, Cassim heard it too. “You want to talk?” His voice was carefully pitched; commanding enough to carry upward, quiet enough not to be heard an alley away. “Then come down here.”

“Sounds like fun.” Sinbad jumped and flipped down, acrobatic as ever. Masrur hid a smirk, and just jumped down.

...Yes, he had learned a thing or two about making a first impression. Living with Sinbad, you couldn’t avoid it.

The way the Fog Troupe moved back like a human wave was testament to that impression. The way they rallied, and pressed warily back in - that was proof they trusted their leader. Far more than normal bandits ever did.

“So what are you planning to do to him?” Sinbad asked, not one whit out of breath. “If what my people heard at the docks is true....”

Cassim’s gaze raked them so hard, Masrur was surprised it didn’t draw blood. “You heard about the maps.”

Sinbad’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded. “If it’s true, most of Balbadd would say, someone deserves to die.”

“Not yet.” Cassim’s teeth flashed, one predator to another. “No, not yet. We’ve taken out his guards. We’re going in there. And then... we’ll ask him some questions.” Fox eyes glinted in the lingering red mist. “Because if he sold one soundings map, what else did he sell?”

Masrur nodded, approving. The man might be a bloodthirsty robber and shameless thief, but he was thinking.

“What else indeed.” And that was the hard tone Sinbad so rarely brought out; even enemies of Sindria usually saw the laughing rogue until the very last. The tone that said, _there is a threat to my people, it ends now_. “Pirates are every sailor’s enemy. If there’s a danger to Sindria, I want to know about it.” His lips curved; just a trace of charm. “Ask. Really.”

Cassim raised an odd dark blade; like his subordinates’, but glimmering black. “If you’ve got a better suggestion, I’m listening. For the next two minutes.”

“We could both ask.” Sinbad smiled. “I’m not just a merchant.”

“No?” Fox eyes widened in mock surprise. “I thought _all_ merchants hung around waiting for thieves.”

“I suppose I should say, _we’re_ not just simple merchants.” Sinbad let a little more charm into his smile, pointing a thumb Masrur’s way. “My quiet friend here is one of Sinbad’s Generals.”

Masrur inclined his head, all too used to the whispers that swept through even a crowd of bandits at that name.

“To keep it short - Sinbad authorized us to act as necessary to deal with the pirate problem and get trade going again,” Sinbad went on. “We have a common problem. I wouldn’t mind being part of the solution.” He waved a hand at the mansion gates. “Shall we?”

Cassim didn’t take his eyes off Sinbad. Smart thief. “Hassan.”

A hefty one-eyed robber stalked forward, brassy blade at the ready. Hassan judged the gates, and the likely spot of the bar inside, and slashed a diagonal down.

Masrur’s nose wrinkled at the scent of acid, as gates crumbled and dissolved away.

“Well, that’s going to be obvious,” Sinbad said cheerfully, following Cassim through the opening. “I take it you plan to leave a message about cooperating with pirates.”

“Is that going to be a _problem?_ ”

“Not at all,” Sinbad grinned. “After all, our delegation spoke to King Abhmad earlier today, and would you believe it? He demanded we deal with the Fog Troupe. And here we are. Making a deal. Shame he wasn’t specific....”

_Must not strangle him_ , Masrur thought firmly, keeping an eye on the sudden gleam of blades in every hand. _You couldn’t have waited ten minutes, Sin?_

On reflection, no, he really couldn’t have. Cassim needed them to be honest _now_ , while he had the upper hand. Anything else would be viewed as a betrayal, and a street boss had only one answer for that.

Well, mostly honest. “Authorized by Sinbad,” indeed.

Cassim lifted a hand, and the knives eased back. “We’ll talk about this. _After_ we get Lord Nalci.”

* * *

“Well, this was an interesting night.” Rubbing the knots out of the back of his neck, Sinbad grabbed one of their suite chairs, prepared to wait up with Masrur for a worryingly late assassin. It was almost dawn; and they both knew Ja’far never would have willingly left Sinbad to his own devices this long. “I never would have thought anyone could corrupt a Sea-General of Balbadd into... this.”

Masrur nodded, looking over the list of pirate vessels Lord Nalci had been persuaded to give them. A list now struck through by one, in Cassim’s bold if unpracticed hand.

_And how did a gang-leader learn palace handwriting?_ Sinbad wondered. _Even if he’s not very good at it_. Rurumu had spent years pounding writing into his and Ja’far’s heads and hands. Sinbad knew the result of an educated teacher when he saw it.

A puzzle; though he’d bet it had something to do with why the Fog Troupe was, indeed, working hand in hand with the smugglers. “They do the sea,” Cassim had grudgingly admitted, taking his own copy of Nalci’s damning list for his allies. “We do land.”

Which was remarkably sensible of Cassim and his smuggler partners. The differences in travel times, ballasting a ship and gauging the wind versus loading wagons and finding fodder - when a merchant was just starting out, all of that could trip anyone up. Better to split the responsibility....

And he was avoiding the problem. Sinbad sighed, propping his elbows on the table so he could rub at a headache with both fists. “It’s worse than we thought.”

Masrur nodded. “Much.”

Oh yes, the headache was biting deep. “Paying the pirates in loot or a bounty - Solomon, they’re pirates, Nalci _has_ to know they’re taking slaves - and then not planning to pay them if they _do_ come in for the bounty, after all, they’re _pirates_....”

“Balbadd’s word is supposed to be good,” Masrur said quietly. “Abhmad’s throwing that away.”

“He doesn’t have a choice,” Sinbad all but swore. “Balbadd is _broke_.”

“Broke?”

Masrur, curse his Fanalis ears, didn’t so much as twitch as a rather rumpled Ja’far slipped in through the dawn-lit window. “You have cobwebs on your headdress.”

The white-haired assassin scowled. Eyed Sinbad, who still had one elbow leaning on the table. Nonchalantly, Sinbad would swear it; half his headache was gone, not that he planned to tell Ja’far how much better he felt knowing the man had shown up intact, Ja’far took care of himself thank you-

_Thwap_.

“Ow!” Startled, Sinbad rubbed at his poor sore head. “What was that for? I haven’t even told you how our night went, yet!”

“That,” his exasperated little General growled, “was because of you. Only you, Sinbad. _Only you_ could walk us into a situation _this mad_.”

“What, a whole kingdom being broke?” Sinbad stalled. Because ordinarily Ja’far was spotless, even when the blood was flying. Now? Cobwebs on his headdress, some kind of sooty dust on his sleeve, a glint of what might be fish scales on his shoes - it looked like Ja’far might have had an even more interesting night than they had. “Where are Morgiana and Aladdin? You didn’t lose them, did you?”

Ja’far’s look was two parts _argh_ , and one part _I will ignore the fact that you think I’m that careless_. “No. They’re safe. Possibly safer than we are. Broke?”

“It’s a long story?” Sinbad tried. It was, after all. One he’d better sort out for himself before he went to break Saluja heads. Or possibly offer Cassim and his bunch a safe ship to Sindria. Intelligent smugglers didn’t grow on trees, after all. Thief or not, letting Cassim’s crew go down with Abhmad’s folly would be a waste.

“Did you find Merhdad?” Masrur asked, sniffing. “Or Alibaba?”

“Oh, you might say that.” Ja’far’s smile was as sharp as his blades. “Though that’s not all I found....”

 


	7. It's a very distinctive bead.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are beads. And hugs. And tunnels. 
> 
> ...And a frustrated dark magician, yeah, let's have more of those....

_There_. Morgiana let her lips part as the three of them stopped in the evening marketplace, moistening the air to pick up the scent most clearly. Not fish, not the sea, not the iron tang of steel or dark scent of leather. It was so faint. Like a ghost of desert dawn. _There’s a trace of Alibaba... there_.

“I’ve never seen so many nails.” Aladdin kept his voice down, though the market wasn’t all that quiet. It was more the way people were glancing over their shoulders every so often; quick looks, scanning their neighbors, relieved when they didn’t see the white turbans or spears of guards. “This is more what Balbadd should look like?”

“It should be even livelier,” Ja’far commented, also quiet. “But of course, this isn’t a _trading_ marketplace. Everyone here would swear blind to that. This is just a bit of barter. Someone has nails; someone needs them. But not _trade_.” He glanced at Morgiana. “What is it?”

“This way,” Morgiana said firmly; her first step uncertain, before she set her jaw and moved. She was not a slave. This fear wasn’t slavery. It was people breaking the law, and worried about getting caught, but she was _not_ a slave. She’d never be one again.

_Alibaba. Why did you leave? You need to tell me_.

The woman sitting on a blanket with her glimmering wares looked up as they approached, beaded jewelry and hand-worked precious metals bright as her smile. There were even ornaments of iron, Morgiana saw; some coal-dark, some polished mirror-bright as the copper woven between their frames.

She ignored those, eyeing one of the hair ornaments. A comb, finer than anything she’d ever worn; carved red wood, trailing a fall of delicate purple-stained carved flowers with blue-green shimmering leaves.

Morgiana inhaled, sure now. _Wood, paint, beetle wings... and Alibaba_.

“Now there’s something I’ve never seen before.” Ja’far smiled, more open and kind than Morgiana had seen yet, as he waved at the ornament. “They look a bit like the scarabs of Heliohapt, but those tend to be more black, or gold. This color is most unusual.”

“It is indeed, kind sir,” the jeweler inclined her head, smiling in return. “You have a discerning eye. The Desert Tears are a treasure newly found, and we delight in their use.”

“Alas, my eye is not so trained as it should be,” Ja’far claimed, hand over his heart. “We of Sindria pride ourselves on discovering new treasures, and I have never spied this before? The merchant who is my master would be devastated.”

“Well, he doesn’t need to hear it from me,” the jeweler winked.

Morgiana saw Aladdin about to speak, and quietly gripped his shoulder, _no_.

“You are entirely too kind, a goddess among women,” Ja’far bowed. “Truly, I must make amends for my flaw. I think- yes. Many of these would do well, seen in Sindria. But I would be remiss in my responsibilities not to inquire of the Tears themselves. Local artisans would be railing at my master’s feet, if I did not.” Ja’far paused. “And quite possibly throwing empty wine bottles at his head. Some of our craftsmen are a bit temperamental.”

“Ah, the sorrows of being driven by one’s craft,” the jeweler sighed. “Tell me, do you know of Jawed of Qal‘eh Ganj...?”

Morgiana drew Aladdin a little away from the blanket as Ja’far and the jeweler traded names and tales of various bits of craftsmanship. “Be patient,” she murmured to her younger friend. “She’s finding out if he’s really from Sindria, and he’s telling her he’s not with the law.”

“Oh.” Aladdin kept it to a low, relieved whisper. “That makes sense. But why these? Though they’re really pretty, and that green would look even prettier in your hair....”

“Scent,” Morgiana said quietly. “Just a little. But Alibaba had them.”

Aladdin’s eyes lit, and he firmly shut his mouth. Reached over, and hugged her.

It took a few minutes more of cautious names and haggling, but at last the two bowed to each other. Ja’far laid out a small array of useful items; some nails, two combs of carved odd bone, and a few steel needles polished to a diamond-fine point.

The jeweler studied the array, and deliberately pushed back one of the needles. “Now, now; don’t be so generous that you can’t afford to come back! We love hearing from Sindria.”

“And we’re glad to have fresh word of our neighbors and allies,” Ja’far stated, accepting the comb. “Be sure that I’ll tell my comrades in the trading company of how the wares of Balbadd still bring new treasures to the world.” He paused. “Our king has always had a fondness for your people, since King Rashid taught him the lessons of trade. Some of them the hard way. It would be entirely too sad, to see the friendships he nurtured fall without even a fight.”

That brought a determined glint to the jeweler’s eye, even as she glanced about the crowd to see if anyone else was paying too much attention. “Fare you well, and may you find what you seek.”

“Or rather, who we seek,” Ja’far murmured, as the three of them headed back out of the marketplace. “Your Alibaba had this?”

“The beads,” Morgiana stated, taking the comb with wide eyes. It was too much. “He didn’t touch the rest of it.”

“Apparently Desert Tears are one of the wares Merhdad’s smugglers have brought to market for Balbadd,” Ja’far informed them. “I asked where we might purchase them ourselves, for Sindria.”

“So we can find Merhdad. And he’ll know where to find Alibaba!” Aladdin blew out a breath of relief. “So where are we going?”

* * *

“We are _not_ going after Lord Nalci.”

_Don’t back down_ , Alibaba told himself firmly, determined not to let the assembled smugglers in this warehouse see him sweat. _They’re angry. We’re all angry. We’ve lost people, good people, and just taking out two ships full of pirates doesn’t bring them back_.

Jahan was standing just to one side, facing the crowd with him, still catching his breath a bit after having sneaked into Balbadd’s port well after dark. Or maybe it was the news he’d brought that left them all breathless; their fellow smugglers had taken down another pirate ship just off Cold Springs Island, and found some of the _Dancer_ ’s crew.

Which would have been good news... except that now they had word of those they’d never find, this side of the grave.

_They’re angry, and they don’t want to hear reason,_ Alibaba knew. _They want to know someone’s going to make it stop hurting... and that someone’s going to_ pay.

“Dock-Master Shahidi _executed_ the pirates we caught,” Alibaba said fiercely, trying to catch every angry eye looking his way. “That means even he can see things have gotten crazy! Maybe he can’t _officially_ stop searching for contraband, but _he came to us for help_. He’s going to be looking for _any_ reason he can to grab these pirates and put them below the tides. Because he knows what Nalci did - and he knows Nalci _didn’t do it alone_.”

And he was not going to let on how dry his mouth was right now. He was stoking the anger, not banking it - but he had to. He had to get that formless rage bundled up and aimed at one target, so he could show them what they could _do_ about it.

“The thing is,” Alibaba went on, “Nalci’s not scared of us.”

“He should be!” snarled from the crowd; Fikri, Alibaba thought, a hard-eyed smuggler who’d been a fairly honest dealer in textiles until less than a year ago. “If we go together-”

“Do you want to kill Balbadd city guards?” Alibaba cut him off. “Kill our own people, to get to one guilty noble? The pirates have done enough of that already! The Fog Troupe has magic. They can get to Nalci without killing _anyone_.” He smiled; maybe not as hard and vicious as his brother, but he’d been paying attention. “And if there’s anyone in this city Nalci will be afraid of, it’s Cassim.”

_Think, think - at least it’s Fikri here, not the printers on Cold Springs and Krait freaking out - need to keep them moving, focused on what we can do_ -

“And while the Fog Troupe is getting names,” Alibaba pressed on, “we’re going to give the nobles something they fear more than death.” _One long breath, hold it_.... “Disgrace. And ruin.”

_Oh boy. Definitely have their attention_.

“First, we need to make sure all of our people are warned about the pirates,” Alibaba stated. “ _All_ our people, sailing or not. Every ship’s going to have to go armed and ready to fight. I’d never tell anyone how to handle their own ships, but everything you can put into speed and hitting the bastards at a distance would probably help. And every island’s going to have to start up using those forts no one puts on the maps again. Because if they can’t take us at sea, sooner or later one of those sea-rats is going to have the bright idea to just start raiding islands.”

That got a snarl; but a directed snarl. Good.

“Then we’ve got to make sure we’re not provisioning the bastards ourselves,” Alibaba stated. “Anyone who sells naval stores, make sure you know who it’s going to. And who they might deal with. We can’t stop the pirates from dealing with the Kou Empire, but we can damn well stop them from dealing with _us_.”

The snarl was backing down now. More thoughtful looks and glances. Good.

“Third - we need to find out how Nalci contacted the pirates in the first place,” Alibaba kept going. “Just in case someone else gets the bright idea to call in more. The Fog Troupe might get us a place to start on that, but everyone should keep an eye out for information.”

_Keep going_.

“While we’re doing that, we start making life _difficult_ for anyone who deals with Nalci, and anyone working with him.” Alibaba shrugged. “Nobles have this bad habit of running outstanding balances with poor merchant-tradesmen like us. So... so sorry, m’lord, but with trade the way it is these days....”

The grins were a little too toothy, but they were real.

“And in the meantime,” Alibaba had to take a breath, this was the biggest risk of all, “drowning sea-rats is supposed to be the Sea-General’s responsibility to all of Balbadd.” He straightened his shoulders, looking over his people with the best calm confidence he could fake. “Well, our honored _Lord of the Seas at War_ isn’t doing his job. So it’s time we did it for him!”

That got cheers. Better, people breaking up into small groups of merchants and travelers and captains, already discussing what they might be able to do to protect their ships and which noble account books were about to get tangled in merchant foot-dragging.

... _I did it?_

From the way Jahan was letting out a subtle sigh of relief, he had.

_Oh_ , Alibaba thought, a bit stunned. Blinked at the darkness outside the warehouse windows; high up to let in a little light and enough of a breeze so cargoes didn’t molder in sea air. He’d never believed he could talk so long. _Can I fall down now?_

No; Fikri was still glaring, no matter how many of his fellow merchants were thumping the man’s shoulder in approval. “You think this will be enough to honor our dead?” the textile smuggler snarled. “Who the blazes do you think you are?”

_“Alibaba!”_ rang out from above.

He didn’t have time to think; just arms open, a leap forward, and catch-

A young magi thumped into him, braid patting against his shoulder a second later. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“We?” Alibaba mentioned, looking past blue hair just in time to see Morgiana - _Morgiana!_ \- drop to the warehouse floor, followed by-

_Sindria. That’s a Sindrian court uniform!_

“Pardon the intrusion,” the white-haired Sindrian inclined his head, the red jewel strung under his headdress glinting in the lamplight. As if jumping down two stories wasn’t something a proper bureaucrat even deigned to notice as an annoyance. “I’ve been assisting these two young travelers in searching for their friend.” He paused, gray eyes weighing the crowd. “I’ve also been authorized by my king to make contact with a certain merchant known as Merhdad, to discuss matters of trade between Balbadd and Sindria.”

_Sindria’s here. Sindria knows there’s a problem_.

Alibaba shook his head, and set Aladdin down, pushing past that exhausting relief even as the younger boy clung to him and grinned. Sindria had damn well _better_ know there was a problem, after the past six months. The question was, what did they plan to do about it?

And why did Jahan look like he’d been handed a friendly salamander krait?

“Ja’far of Sindria,” the older merchant stated, still with that same watchful hope. “It’s been a while.” A heartbeat’s pause. “Please tell me you’re in a good mood.”

“Jahan of Krait Island.” The bureaucrat snorted, diplomatic poise relaxing into something at once calmer and more deadly. “Don’t worry about it. The only one I want to strangle at the moment is Sinbad.”

“Ah,” Jahan nodded, somewhat relieved. “Same as usual, it seems.”

_Not at all like usual._ Alibaba felt his stomach sink, listening to the whispers spread through the merchants. _They heard my name, if they put two and two together...._

Only from some of the sidelong looks and nudges, some of the smugglers had _already_ known. Which was not exactly making him feel any better.

Though at least half those looks seemed to be at the Sindrian bureaucrat-

_Eep_.

Alibaba had read the Sinbad stories enough to recite them by heart. Ja’far of Sindria was a bureaucrat the way a desert hyacinth was a pretty garden flower. Only if the stories were right, getting him drunk _wouldn’t work_.

_Ja’far of Sindria. One of the Eight Generals. And Jahan knows him?_

“And you’re Aladdin.” Jahan smiled at the magi. “Your friend’s been looking for you, too.”

_Right. Aladdin. Talk_ , Alibaba told himself. _Only - can’t talk about Djinn and magi and everything in front of all these people, there’d be a panic. Or worse, they’d think I could actually do something they can’t_ -

For all his faults, Fikri was no idiot. He was looking between Ja’far, and Aladdin, and Alibaba, and apparently coming up with answers that were not comfortable at all.

“I knew he would be.” Aladdin gave Jahan an almost-innocent look. “Did you know we met Sinbad? He’s a little strange, but he’s really a good guy. And he’s really worried about what’s happening to Balbadd.”

_You sly little imp_ , Alibaba thought fondly, as the room seemed to relax just a little more. “That’s - good to know. We’ve been trying to get word to him.”

“I know,” Ja’far nodded. “I’d like to discuss that. In some detail. Once you’re done for the night-”

Morgiana’s head snapped up, as a low whistle came down from those smugglers stationed at other windows to watch the streets. “Guards are coming.”

“Here we go again,” Alibaba sighed. “Don’t worry,” he told Aladdin, trying to sound as confident as Jahan would. “They raid the warehouses on searches every few days. All we have to do....”

One of Aden’s crew pried up a trapdoor; one of several in the building. No way had Alibaba ever intended to draw his smugglers together for a meeting without having multiple ways out.

“...Is not be here,” Alibaba grinned.

* * *

Ithnan dusted off his hands, studying the dispersing motes of light in the rukh. It’d been easy enough to drop a whispered word and have the guards search this warehouse instead of another, even so late at night.

But from the relative silence inside - outside of crates being shoved around, a few curses, and some usual late-night laughter - they’d found no one. Again.

_They weren’t exactly hurrying to get here_ , the magician thought darkly.

And they probably weren’t searching that thoroughly. Not with so much stubborn light sparked in the guards, as well.

_Still, whoever sparked that burst of light - they’re scattered now_ , Ithnan thought, reluctantly satisfied. _That should do for a time. Until Kougyoku’s delegation reaches the city. Those warriors can interfere at will - and our trap for Sinbad will remain hidden. Until it’s too late_.

Laughing, he vanished.

* * *

“Merhdad, I presume.”

Closing the door to the inn’s attic loft behind the five of them - Beniel’s cousin Rahimi, who ran the Krait’s Den, would swear blind there was nothing up here but storage and rats, no sir - Alibaba tried not to sigh. It’d been a long night, and it looked like it was going to be a longer one. “And you’re one of Sinbad’s Generals. We need you to get a message to him-”

Morgiana’s eyes narrowed as Jahan lit the lamp and put it in the middle of their room table. “Why aren’t you using your own name?”

Alibaba winced. Damn it, how could he ever explain? The whole mess that was his life....

“Something bad happened.” Aladdin was looking up at him, quietly worried. “That’s why you left here, right? Sinbad said Balbadd was a place for people who didn’t have somewhere to go. So it must have been awful.”

“Sindria would also like an answer to that,” Ja’far said plainly. “We had letters about you; your father was very proud of his son. But we were busy. Saving the world, Sinbad would tell you. And he wouldn’t be lying.” The white-haired minister shook his head. “But we should have come anyway. We trusted our ally King Rashid too much, and failed him when he needed us most. And now you’re trying to pick up the pieces of what Abhmad has shattered. Legal or not?”

Pretty much summed it up. Even if it didn’t answer the real question in Aladdin’s eyes.

Morgiana, now; those exotic eyes were wide, putting together what Ja’far had said with what she’d seen in the dungeon, Alibaba would bet. She knew what it took to beat Lord Jamil at swordplay.

_So there’s only one person I need to explain to_. Alibaba swallowed hard. “I told you before, there were things I wanted to tell you. I just... didn’t get the chance....”

Ja’far held up a hand as he faltered. “Morgiana. Aladdin. You should know that your friend is probably in great danger here, if his name is widely known. So far as I know there are no official orders hunting him - but having met your brothers, Alibaba, I’d be surprised if there are no unofficial orders to see you... detained. Or worse.”

“You met Alibaba’s brothers?” Aladdin said, startled. Glanced back at Alibaba. “You have brothers? And you ended up in trouble because of me, instead of... people can send letters to help cover debts, the caravan traders told me that. Why didn’t you ask them to help you?”

“Because they don’t want to know I exist.” Now; he had to say it now, or he never would. “My name... my name is Alibaba Saluja.”

Morgiana’s breath huffed, like a lioness spotting unruly prey.

“King Rashid’s third son, and acknowledged heir,” Ja’far stated.

“Which is _crazy_ , and I told him that,” Alibaba gritted out. “No one’s going to follow the son of a palace maid, I-”

Aladdin poked him, right in the ribs by Amon’s knife. “This sounds complicated. Start from the beginning.”

“Now, that sounds promising,” Jahan observed, stealing one of the chairs. “I haven’t heard the whole story, either.” The merchant grinned. “Don’t let him leave out the part with the fire-spitting snakes.”

* * *

_Wow_. Aladdin leaned back against a cushion as Alibaba finished talking, finally taking that silly cap off his head. _He was raised in the streets here, and then his mother died, and then King Rashid found him, and then Cassim found him and stole the treasury..._ _Alibaba’s been through a lot_. “So... even though your brother’s done awful things, you don’t want him to know you’re trying to stop him?”

“I don’t care if he knows I’m trying to stop him. It’s everyone else.” His friend rubbed at what had to be an awful headache. “The Kou Empire’s trying to take over Balbadd. They’ll do it with money if they can. If they can’t, they’ll go to war. If people know Merhdad the smuggler is fighting back against King Abhmad’s ridiculous trade laws, then - then if Balbadd goes to war, they’ll still fight for the country. Because it’s their home. But if they know my- if they know Alibaba Saluja is fighting King Abhmad....”

“Then it’s a civil war, and Balbadd will be too busy fighting itself to resist the Empire,” Ja’far finished. “You have a plan to eliminate Kou influence here, if you can avoid a war?”

“I’m... not sure,” Alibaba admitted. “I’ve got one that’ll deal with the expense, but not the problem.”

“The expense?” Morgiana frowned.

“If enough money can solve it,” Alibaba started.

“It’s not a problem, it’s an expense,” Ja’far finished, gray eyes sober. “You did learn from Rashid.”

Color bloomed in Alibaba’s cheeks. “Getting Balbadd out of the debt hole - that’s the expense. We’re working on it.”

“By devaluing the Fan,” Ja’far nodded.

Leaning back in his chair, Jahan chuckled. “Ah, if only it were that simple!”

White brows rose. “Now I am interested,” Ja’far murmured. “What are you up to?”

“First, we got trade going again,” Alibaba obliged. “That got funds and metals moving. And knocked the value of the Fan down to pretty much zero... _in Balbadd_.”

“Oh,” Ja’far breathed. “Oh, that is evil. I _like_ you.” He nodded to himself, short and sharp. “And the Fog Troupe has been robbing noble houses. Stealing everything not nailed down. Including the Fan.”

Alibaba smiled.

“Um....” Lost, Aladdin looked at Morgiana. Who shrugged, equally confused. “What does that mean, you just made it worth less in Balbadd...?”

Oh. Oh wow, if what he thought was right, that really _was_ evil. “You mean, the Fan’s still worth something in the Empire, right?” Aladdin said, feeling his way through what seemed like an awful complicated mess. “So... you’re making it so the people here don’t want the Fan, they’re not using it. And then you’re stealing it from the nobles, so... you can _buy_ back what Abhmad sold?”

“If we can nail down all the contracts with the Empire, it might work,” Alibaba nodded. “ _If_ all they wanted was money.”

“But they want the country,” Ja’far said plainly. “You can put them off for a while by managing the debt, but sooner or later they’ll find an excuse to invade. Or invent one.”

“They want more than the country.” Alibaba shivered. “They want _Sinbad_.”

Ja’far... blinked. “Explain.”

Aladdin shivered at that still threat in Ja’far’s voice. Even if he knew it wasn’t aimed at any of them.

“We’ve been gathering information through our trade networks,” Jahan stated, voice level with its own quiet threat. “The Kou Empire has access to far too many Magic Tools to have come through trade with other nations.”

Alibaba took a breath, and nodded. “Way too many. They’re using them for the nobles, they’re using them on their army... they have to have captured a Dungeon. And if that’s what’s letting them push out from the kingdoms they used to be to the Empire they are - their Dungeon Capturer’s had _ten years_ to get good using his Djinn’s power.”

Ja’far was still sitting. Waiting.

“Sindria has ties to Balbadd. Everyone in court knows that,” Alibaba went on. “Make a big enough mess in Balbadd - well, just look. You’re here.”

“Oh, he’s not the only one,” Aladdin started.

Ja’far held up a hand, face stern. “You think the Kou Empire’s efforts here... are meant to lure out King Sinbad.”

“Yes!” Alibaba shuddered, facing down that cold stare. But he didn’t run. “They’re trying to wreck us. We’re fighting them, but we can’t fight Dungeon Capturers! And Sinbad - he _saves_ people, this is a trap, you’ve got to warn him-!”

_You are brave_ , Aladdin smiled. _You just need to figure it out_.

Ja’far leaned back, studying the young prince. “Your kingdom is in danger of being swallowed up. And your first words to me are not to ask for help, but to warn my own king away from here?”

“Yes.” The word sounded like it’d been dragged out of Alibaba with iron tongs. “The Seven Seas Alliance might be able to stop the Empire, if they’ve got Sinbad. And _they have to be stopped_.”

Ja’far folded his hands in his sleeves. “Why?”

“I want to know, too,” Aladdin said somberly. “I met Princess Hakuei. She was trying to save lives by getting the Kouga Tribe to join the Empire. What’s so bad about that?”

Alibaba blinked at him, and winced. “Did she tell you what happens to people after they join the Empire?”

“They... go along with everyone else?” Aladdin guessed.

“Not exactly.”

Oh. Oh no, Alibaba looked sad, and angry. And his friend Jahan looked even angrier. “What... what happens to them, then?” Aladdin asked.

Alibaba took a deep breath. “I haven’t been there. We’re getting this second and third-hand, from merchants who have. The ones who have gotten away with their own minds.” He folded one hand over the other, as if he were trying not to reach for his knife. “First - people who join the Empire, don’t get a say. In anything. The Kou are on top. They decide who gets to live, who gets to work, what people get to do for a living. Doesn’t matter what they _want_ to do. And any job that takes thinking - like, say, being a tutor, or a merchant, or an officer in the army - _only_ the Kou get to do those jobs. Everybody else has to let the Kou _tell_ them what to do.”

Aladdin felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “But - Princess Hakuei was trying to save people....”

“Saving people isn’t just keeping them alive,” Alibaba said grimly. “Second - they keep slaves. Lots of them. They think it’s a good thing. Helps people get properly educated. Because after all, they’re not Kou - they’d better get used to people telling them what to do, right? What to do. What to think. What to be.”

“If I’d had any mind to live with that, I’d still be in Partevia,” Jahan muttered. “Not that Partevia will exist, if the Empire gets there. Not when the generation that remembers dies off.”

Morgiana’s eyes narrowed, even as she moved closer so Aladdin could lean on her. “The generation that remembers?”

“And that brings us to three,” Alibaba said soberly. “They wipe out a kingdom’s ways. All of them. Everything people believe, all their histories, everything down to what they wear. All of it has to be the Empire’s way, or no way. The countries they take over - a generation from now, those countries will be _gone_. No one will remember what they lost.”

Morgiana blinked, red eyes just as sad and angry as Alibaba’s. “Like Katarg.”

“So that’s why you’re fighting so fiercely,” Ja’far said, half to himself. “You’re not afraid of a kingdom’s ruin. You’re looking at Balbadd’s obliteration.”

“We need help,” Alibaba said raggedly. “Solomon, we need it! But,” his hands curled into fists, “if we can’t save ourselves, if Balbadd can’t be saved - _someone has to stop them_.”

“There will be help,” Ja’far stated, tense and ready to move.

Alibaba started. As if he hadn’t expected an answer. At all.

“I can’t promise what kind,” Ja’far went on. “I need to talk to my allies. But you’ve brought up a threat to Sindria and our king, and we can’t ignore that. Balbadd is our trading partner; it would be better for both of our countries if the Kou Empire is thwarted here.”

“Even if you have to work around King Abhmad?” Alibaba said warily.

“Especially if,” Ja’far grumbled. “That’s one of the things I’ll need to consult on. We’re staying at the Traveler’s Rest, if you need to bring news. Can you stay in port a few days?”

A breath sighed out of the blond. “I think I’d better. If I pull out now, someone’s going to go after Nalci the hard way, and- it’d be better if that didn’t happen.”

“Hmm.” Ja’far was looking at Alibaba, in a way that reminded Aladdin a little bit of how Amon had looked. Startled, and not exactly unhappy. “You managed to talk them down.”

“They were angry. They _should_ be angry,” Alibaba stated. “They just needed to know there was something they could _do_.”

Ja’far eyed him darkly, then glanced at Jahan.

The merchant shrugged, mirth dancing in amber eyes. “I’ve been told it’s nothing special. Several times.”

“I think our king would disagree.” Ja’far rose, and bowed. “I’ll send word if I can. But given the city is less than quiet... if you haven’t heard from us by tomorrow night, come find us.”

* * *

The tilt of Morgiana’s head told him Ja’far must finally be out of earshot. Alibaba breathed out, and tried not to fall over.

_Long, long night_.

And still not over, from Aladdin and Morgiana’s worried looks. “Hi?” Alibaba tried.

“You _left_ ,” Morgiana stated. “And you didn’t tell me.”

In his corner, Jahan stifled a chuckle.

“It wasn’t like that!” Alibaba shot at the merchant, alarmed. Because this was Morgiana, who could break stone with her bare feet; he really, really hoped he didn’t look stupid enough to leave _that_ kind of girlfriend behind. “I just- I had to leave Qishan. So everybody could think for themselves, instead of just following me. So you could do what _you_ wanted to do.” He had to look away from that fierce gaze. “I wasn’t a slave. But I know what it’s like to feel like you have no choices, and then - then you have to choose everything. It’s _hard_. It takes time. I wanted you to have that time.” He managed to glance up. “And - there was something I had to do. Here. Only everything here’s worse than I thought, I’m not sure if I can _fix_ it-”

_Clonk_.

That was a very solid carved wood staff, Alibaba thought, eyes watering. Ow.

“Calm down.” Aladdin sounded as unruffled as if a whole snarling empire at their doorstep was just another bunch of slime monsters. “We’ll talk, and we’ll find a way. You got this far already. If we do it together, I know we can save Balbadd.”

“Hmm.” Jahan rose, ostentatiously stretching a kink out of his back. “You youngsters should do that, yes. _Without_ glossing over that little detail you left out of what you told Ja’far.”

Morgiana’s eyes narrowed. “He offered to help you, and you left something out?”

“It was a sensible decision, young lady,” Jahan said practically. “Ja’far may wish us well, terrifying as that is, but he is Sinbad’s General first and foremost. Until we have a better idea what sort of aid Sindria is willing to give, the young prince needs a card up his sleeve-”

“Don’t call me that! I’m not-” Alibaba cut himself off, suddenly exhausted. “I just want to keep Balbadd whole, Jahan. That’s all. I’m not... what King Rashid wanted for an heir. I’m not.”

“I wish I knew what he’d said to convince you of that,” Jahan murmured. “Well. I should leave old friends to catch up.” He winked at Aladdin. “Your young friend has an _interesting_ story to tell.”

For a graying merchant constantly playing up how creaky he was, Alibaba thought, the man moved almost as quiet as a mouse.

Morgiana listened to the inn below a few moments after the trapdoor shut, then gave him a look. “What did you leave out?”

“When we left the dungeon, we got scattered.” Alibaba swallowed hard, and made himself draw his sheathed knife from his belt. “Aladdin, I think... this really belongs with you.”

Curious, Aladdin grasped the sheath-

Amon formed from heat and aggravation, looking down on Aladdin with a sigh of relief. “Magi. It is good to see you well.”

“Amon?” Aladdin lit up, as Morgiana’s eyes went very wide. “You’re here! I thought you were stuck in the Dungeon!”

Amon frowned. “Did I not tell you a magi is meant to choose kings? Your choice was unusual... but he has his merits.”

Alibaba buried his face in his hands. This was not how he’d imagined this going. “You wanted me to find Aladdin. I found him. You don’t have to put up with me anymore.”

The Djinn bristled. “Young brat! As if I would ever-”

“Wait, wait, stop!” Aladdin waved one hand at the Djinn, the other still holding the sheath. “He doesn’t mean it! Or, he wouldn’t mean it, if he knew what- Amon, we were in a hurry, remember? You two didn’t get to talk!”

“Talk?” Amon huffed, all but trailing smoke. “He was led by a magi, he cleared a Dungeon-”

“I didn’t even _know_ I was a magi!” Aladdin cut him off. “How could Alibaba know what that meant? He didn’t come into your Dungeon because I led him there; he came because we both thought it’d be awesome, and he was my friend!” The young magi blinked up at the Djinn. “And it was awesome. It was the greatest adventure ever.”

“It was,” Alibaba agreed, remembering all the terror and excitement. Shivering a little even now, remembering how many skulls he’d walked past to keep them both alive. “So... if we were supposed to talk then, can we talk now? Because - with the Kou, what they do....”

He had to stop. Put his head down, and just breathe. Because Jahan might say he was being an idiot. Cassim would definitely say that, and maybe cut his throat in the bargain. Balbadd needed all the power they could get their hands on.

_But if all I want is someone else’s power - how am I any different from the Empire?_

“Balbadd doesn’t have slaves,” Alibaba stated, looking up at Amon. “It’s wrong. Using someone against their will is _wrong_. And - we can’t talk, without Aladdin. I can’t ask you what you want. I used your power because I had to, because we were going to die... and later, because it seemed like you wanted me to. But I don’t know. I don’t know what you want. How can I use what you give me when it might not be anything you’d ever choose?”

Amon shrank a bit, as if he wanted a closer look at this very unsatisfying human. “We were bound by Solomon’s power to wait. To test those who enter our Dungeons. To choose one as a candidate for king, and lend him our power.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Alibaba brought his chin up, determined. “What do you want? How - how can we talk to each other, so I know what you want to do? What you don’t want to do? It’s your power. You should at least be able to tell me to stop!”

The Djinn’s bearded jaw dropped. “Magi. Is he truly...?”

“Of course he’s serious.” Aladdin was smiling. “He’s my Alibaba.”

But it was Morgiana’s look that caught Alibaba off guard. Wonder, lighting red eyes; like he was a quiet sunset after a day gone right, with the waves lapping quietly at the docks. “You really believe it,” she stated. “That no one should be slaves.”

“Can we do it, Amon?” Aladdin looked the Djinn in all three eyes. “Alibaba needs you. We all need you. But I wouldn’t want to make Ugo do anything he didn’t want, either. Can you talk to Alibaba?”

“It is not what Solomon laid down....”

Aladdin crossed his arms. Gave the Djinn a _look_ , that Alibaba just knew he had to have gotten from somebody’s old grandmother. “Did Solomon say you _couldn’t_ talk to kings?”

“Possibly not.” Amon stroked his beard with long nails. “Magi. I truly do not know how this could be accomplished... but Lord Ugo might. If it would not weary you, to support us both for a few minutes?”

Smiling, Aladdin blew his flute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ithnan pointing the guards toward that warehouse - it is _canon_ that whenever Alibaba goes into full-on King Candidate mode and reminds people that yes, they can overcome fate and make things better, there’s a massive rush of white rukh. Poor guy might as well set up a fireworks display.   
>  Alibaba knowing how the Kou Empire operates - okay, this is bending canon a lot, but I have my reasons. The main one being, hello, merchant. The most valuable item to trade, anywhere, anytime, is information. If the Kou Empire is a deadly threat, then you put everything you have into finding out who they are, what they’ve got for resources, what the heck they’re doing, and why they think they’re doing it. The moment he knew Kou was after Balbadd, Alibaba should have scraped together information from anywhere he could get it. In this AU he’s tied into a merchant network, and those guys often literally live or die based on how good their information is. There’s no way he wouldn’t know what the Kou Empire M.O. is; not with half a year to go looking.   
> ...Which actually makes the pressure even worse than canon. It’s one thing to know your kingdom will be conquered. It’s quite another to know it will be warped into a horrible copy of something you hate.   
> (Meta, I suspect the author didn’t have what the Kou Empire was doing to conquered people all planned out at the time. But we have canon to use as hindsight, it’s written as canon they’ve been doing this for years, and so word really should have gotten around.)


	8. Your father did what to Sinbad?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alibaba takes after his father. This should scare more people....

Sinbad wrapped his hands around a hot drink; the night had been surprisingly cold, and none of them had been willing to sleep until Ja’far finished his report. “So you left the magi with Merhdad. Who is... Alibaba.” Which should have been worth a minute’s stare all on its own, after meeting the elder sons he’d had no hope that anything of Rashid’s genius was left in the world....

Only the plan Ja’far had gleefully outlined had already used up all Sinbad’s staring in shock for at least the next hour. Use the Empire’s own Fan to buy Balbadd’s debts back? It was audacious. It was _ridiculous_.

...It just might _work_. If Al-Thamen weren’t avidly stirring the pot. Meaning leaving a young magi alone in Balbadd wasn’t exactly _safe_.

“You didn’t see him catch Aladdin.” Ja’far took a deep sip of his own steaming cup, looking into memory. “Aladdin wouldn’t stay with us while he’s worried about his friend. For the moment, they’re safer looking after each other.” He paused. “And Alibaba is leaving something important out of his story. He’ll be more likely to talk to them.”

“He didn’t say anything about magic,” Masrur noted.

“Exactly.” Ja’far looked up from his cup. “No one said anything about magic. Alibaba was holding that mob of smugglers together with just reason and words. And it worked.”

He’d expect that, out of Rashid’s son. The man could talk sense even into a Dungeon Capturer. “But you think they do have it,” Sinbad stated.

“From how you describe Cassim, they’d have to,” Ja’far said frankly. “The man wouldn’t accept a partnership with someone of lesser power. Foster brother or not.”

“Which implies that it’s Alibaba who has the power,” Sinbad concluded. “And, given you expect him to talk to them when none of the smugglers are talking... you think Aladdin and Morgiana already know about it. Interesting. I wonder what he found, wandering three years away from Balbadd?”

Masrur gave him a look, of the _you are ignoring the man-eating hyena variety_. “Enough to know Kou is targeting you.”

Ouch. He wasn’t going to be living this trip down in a hurry, Sinbad knew. But that was alright. It was worth the ribbing he was going to get from his generals, just to know there was a young prince who’d been able to look past his own country’s ruin to see an even greater danger.

_We need all the allies we can get_.

“I can understand not wanting to spark off a civil war with the Kou Empire ready to invade,” Sinbad reflected. “But given the mess Abhmad’s made of Balbadd... well, there is an obvious solution.”

“Apparently not obvious to Alibaba,” Ja’far replied. “Jahan blatantly hinted that the prince doesn’t think calming an angry mob is anything out of the ordinary.”

Masrur frowned at that. “Brave, but doesn’t believe it. No confidence.”

Which was annoying, Sinbad thought. How could someone have led an entire economic war against the Kou Empire and _not_ be confident? “So we’d better not ambush him with our plans for his brother right away.”

“Probably not,” Ja’far said dryly.

Definitely annoying. Abhmad didn’t deserve the throne, and Balbadd’s people didn’t deserve Abhmad on it. Then again.... “Cassim was searching for specific information. Alibaba’s trying to find out exactly what the terms of the agreements with Kou are?”

That got him a look askance. “Of course he is,” Ja’far stated. “The Fan is an _obvious_ trap, to anyone with half a brain and a few months with account books. Which means there has to be _another_ trap. Where better to put it than in the terms?”

Oh. _Oh_. And Rashid was probably thwacking him from the rukh, even now. Because after that mess with Mariadel....

Yes. _Specific terms_ were a very good thing to know. Especially because-

Masrur leaned over, and very gently rapped his knuckles on Sinbad’s head.

“What was that for?” Sinbad managed, eyes watering.

“You looked like you needed it.”

Well, yes. Ow. “Given they’re deliberately creating unrest in Balbadd, the most obvious terms to write into a binding agreement between Kou and Balbadd would be to make it between the current Emperor, and the current king,” Sinbad said ruefully.

“So if Alibaba intends to get Balbadd out of the Empire’s clutches, he has every reason to avoid the throne like the plague,” Ja’far concluded.

“Smarter than I thought,” Sinbad admitted. “Let’s hope he’s smart enough to keep a magi safe, until we can talk.”

* * *

_Lord Aladdin is safe. For now_.

Amon rested in the room of his king’s soul, watching some of the dream-strands knot with worry for Alibaba’s friends, even as others smoothed in relief to be with people he trusted once more.

_I doubt my king would sleep this easily if he knew all Lord Ugo had discussed_.

Fortunate, that as fellow Djinn they could communicate with rukh as well as words. Hand-signs alone could never have gotten across the depths of the danger from those who called themselves Al-Thamen... nor the risky meditation Aladdin would need to use, so that Ugo might send his spirit journeying to gain the knowledge needed to save the world.

_Not to mention, to perform the magic my king seeks, and loosen some of the original strictures on Djinn_ , Amon thought. _So that we may have voices and will in this world, and not just serve as vessels of power_.

Amon frowned, honestly of two minds about that. On the one hand, the Djinn were not of this world. They were of Alma Torran, and despite their best efforts, that world had _died_. How could they offer solutions for this world when they had failed to save their own? And yet....

He had not seen his service to a king as slavery. Lord Ugo had asked; and as they had all been grateful to save their peoples’ lives, they had all agreed to do as he willed. Lending power to those the folk of this world would choose to rule themselves; it was not _wrong_.

_But Alibaba is Aladdin’s chosen King. And when Lord Ugo asked of him what he wished for most of all, Aladdin wanted a_ friend.

And he’d lingered in Alibaba’s soul long enough to know the young man wished the same. That, in a way, his king needed that most of all: the promise that someone followed him _of their own will_ , not because they had no better choice.

_Give him that certainty, and he would not need power_ , Amon thought. _His will alone would drive him to overcome Fate_.

Though of a certainty, power wouldn’t hurt. Hopefully he’d made it quite clear, while Aladdin held them in the physical world, that Alibaba should consider himself free to call on all of his power in his own defense. And most certainly in defense of Lord Aladdin!

_The boy will need that, I fear_ , Amon sighed. _What Al-Thamen might do with a body whose soul has gone wandering - it would be dark, indeed_.

* * *

_Warm. And safe_.

Alibaba blinked at the late-morning light filtering into their concealed rooms. Held still a moment; checking why he was warm, who was around him, this wasn’t yet another night onboard ship or under a caravan wagon-

Aladdin, curled up on his left, flying turban clutched close to the magi’s chest. The unexpected warmth at the foot of the bed was Morgiana, curled under a sheet like a napping kitten.

_They’re here. They’re real_.

_They could wind up in so much trouble if this goes wrong_....

A chill seemed to clench inside him, as Alibaba remembered things had already gone wrong. According to Aladdin, Sinbad was here. In Balbadd. _Without his Djinns_.

And Alibaba had to grip his forehead with both hands and just hold it, as if he were holding his own skull together. Because this was _absolutely insane_.

_He lost his Metal Vessels - that’s what Aladdin says my knife is now, Amon’s Vessel_. Alibaba had to breathe out, shaken. _Forget the whole Djinn thing. He lost_ seven people he knows _to robbers. People like Ugo. Like Amon. People who agreed to help him. Why isn’t he tearing Balbadd apart?!?_

Well, lucky for all of them, Alibaba _knew_ a pretty good robber. If he could get descriptions of the Djinns’ Vessels, Cassim could make a stab at getting them back.

_Though that’s going to be tricky_ , Alibaba reflected; sitting up carefully, so he didn’t disturb Aladdin just yet. _If I tell Cassim exactly what they are - there’s no way he wouldn’t try to use them for leverage_.

But he didn’t want to lie to his brother. And whether Cassim believed it or not, they were brothers; more than Abhmad and Sabhmad had ever been. So what could he say?

_Well - the truth could work_ , Alibaba thought. _They’re Magic Tools, only Sinbad can use them, and we need help to save Balbadd_.

After all, the important thing was to _find_ the Djinns. Once they knew who had Sinbad’s Metal Vessels... then Sinbad could make his own arguments. Possibly including a hefty bribe-

Red eyes were looking at him.

Alibaba gulped. “Good morning?”

Morgiana sat up, sheet still wrapped around her, eyes dark with determination. “You are _not_ giving up on Balbadd.”

“I’m not!” Alibaba said defensively. “I never would. It’s just - the Kou Empire is so big, and they have armies and magic and....” His voice died; he had to swallow hard. But at least he _could_ say this to Morgiana. She wasn’t a smuggler. She wasn’t a thief. She wasn’t part of Balbadd at all. He didn’t have to fake being brave. Not for her. “I’m scared.”

“We’ll find out who to hit,” Morgiana said calmly. “And then we’ll hit them. As many times as it takes.”

As plans went, it had the advantage of being simple. And maybe even possible. But- “You were going to go home. To Katarg. This doesn’t have to be your fight.”

“I could go with Sinbad to Sindria, and take a ship there,” Morgiana nodded. “But that would mean leaving my friend in danger, when he’s trying to save others. The way he saved me.”

Alibaba stared at her, and shook his head to rattle loose some sense. “You saved yourself.”

“I couldn’t have, if you hadn’t shattered my chains.”

No way did he deserve credit for that. “Goltas broke your-”

“Goltas cut my chains,” Morgiana cut him off. “You shattered them.”

Oh. That was... Alibaba wasn’t sure what that look in her eyes was, but the tips of his ears were burning. “I’m not that good a guy, really,” he muttered. “I didn’t-”

“You didn’t tell Ja’far all of your plan.” Morgiana nodded again. “Just like you didn’t tell him about Amon. There’s something you need to be a surprise?”

“Yeah.” Alibaba rubbed at the back of his neck, sheepish. But if he couldn’t tell Morgiana, who could he trust? “Sindria... they were a trading company before they were ever a country. They really might not like part of what I’m doing. And they can’t know in advance, or the Empire might go after them for it.”

The Fanalis rested her chin on her fist, curious.

“It’s just, well - nobles spend money,” Alibaba admitted. “Even stealing the Fan, there wouldn’t be enough left in Balbadd to pay the debts.”

Morgiana squinted at him, as if she’d spied a tasty fish just out of reach. “ _Wouldn’t_ be.”

Alibaba felt his ears burn redder. “Well... you know how the Kou is just paper?”

“Yes,” Morgiana blinked. “It’s strange; something you can make... into money....”

_Oh, let me die right now_ , Alibaba winced. _Here it comes. You’re a liar, a cheat, a felon beneath contempt, a_ counterfeiter-

Was that a giggle?

Morgiana had both her hands in front of her mouth, shoulders shaking. Tiny squeaking noises worked past her fingers; the quiet, rare giggle he’d first overheard in Amon’s Dungeon, as Aladdin imitated Lord Jamil.

“It’s not funny,” Alibaba muttered. “Piracy just gets you executed. Counterfeiting? In Balbadd? Even if we’re slipping the counterfeits into the Empire, so we’ve got _real_ Fan to buy Balbadd out.... That’s _exile_. Forever. You don’t mess with money. You just _don’t_.”

There was a sigh from beside him in the bed, that wasn’t sleepy at all. “So that’s why you’re doing it.”

Startled, Alibaba glanced at Aladdin.

The young magi was sitting up, braid slipping over his shoulder as serious blue eyes studied his friend. “You don’t want to be king. You don’t think you should be king. So... you’re doing things you think people won’t want in a king, because they have to be done and _somebody_ needs to do them.” Thin shoulders shrugged, confused. “Why?”

Oh man. Why? Why would anyone ever think he could be king, his mother had been a palace maid, no one was going to listen to him-

But Aladdin was listening. And he’d seen the smugglers listen.

_So I have to tell him the truth_. “I’d be a lousy king,” Alibaba admitted, shoulders slumped. “And... it’s got nothing to do with being brave.” _I’m not that, either, even if you think I am. If I were, I’d try anyway, right?_ “There’s a lot of reasons. But two of them are big ones.” _Deep breath. Keep it - not simple, Aladdin’s not dumb, just young. Keep it blunt_. “First off, a king has to be... hard inside. He can’t help everyone. He _can’t_. He has to say what the law is, and then do what’s right by it. And come down hard on anyone breaking the law, no matter what. If you don’t do that, then the people never know what might be the right thing to do next. And if they don’t have that confidence, if they don’t know they can do what they planned to do tomorrow without getting jailed or executed or losing _everything_ \- then no one can trust anyone else, and the kingdom falls apart. Maybe it exists in name, but if the people can’t trust their own laws, then... then there’s no hope.”

“And you want to help everyone,” Aladdin said, half to himself.

“The other reason - I don’t know enough,” Alibaba said bluntly. “Not about war, or laws, or other countries. Not about _everything_. My- the king trained me in trade. I _know_ trade. I can be a good merchant. I don’t know the rest of it! If Abhmad would listen to me about trade and economics... then, maybe, together we could make one decent king. But if I were king, I’d have to ask other people for advice, just like Abhmad did. _Maybe_ I’d make better decisions about who to trust than someone like the Banker. But with the Kou Empire trying to take Balbadd over....”

“Maybe isn’t good enough,” Aladdin concluded.

Alibaba shook his head. “If I thought it would work, I’d get Sindria to take Balbadd over as a satrapy. Let them pick someone local to hold power as a governor, like Lord Jamil did in Qishan,” he explained when Aladdin scrunched his brows. “So a local lord is ruling, but Sinbad would be the official king.” He shrugged. “But I don’t think it would work. The people of Balbadd wouldn’t like it, and Sinbad probably doesn’t want to get stuck in power with Sindria directly up against the Kou Empire. So... I’m trying to plan something else.”

“What?” Morgiana asked.

Um. Er. How could he explain without sounding crazy? Magi were supposed to _choose_ kings. Not set up countries that didn’t have them.

“Maybe we shouldn’t ask.” Aladdin gave them both an impish smile. “It might help if we’re surprised, too, right?”

“It might,” Alibaba admitted, feeling the blush burn his face. “You know if it was magic, or fighting, I’d tell you, right? But - it’s people. And I might get them to do it if they’re surprised. Maybe.”

“An ambush.” Red eyes creased, silent approval. “You know your people. Just make sure you ask us when we _can_ help.”

Alibaba let out a sigh of relief. “Then - can I ask now?” he managed. “I told Cassim we’d meet up around noon, so we can go over what we know, and what everybody should try next. Do you want to come with me?”

Aladdin grinned.

* * *

_I don’t trust him_.

Morgiana flicked her gaze over the three that’d come to meet Alibaba in this wreck of an old bakery. Burly one-eyed Hassan would be a tough opponent; lithe and suspicious Zainab might be even more dangerous, because there was no way she’d ever fight fair. But Cassim-

Alibaba _never_ looked away from Cassim. Not for more than a second. And then only when Cassim was yards away.

_Out of stabbing range_ , Morgiana thought. And almost shook her head, trying to sort that with the genuine warmth that had infused Alibaba’s voice, even when he’d told them about Cassim stealing the treasury. Not to mention the way Cassim _did_ take his eyes off Alibaba, all the time, as if they were all casual acquaintances enjoying fish on a stick together. Only those fox eyes creased, every once in a while when he thought no one was watching; as if he were weighing just how many rocks he’d need to sink them in the harbor.

_Alibaba loves Cassim, but doesn’t trust him_ , Morgiana concluded. _Cassim trusts Alibaba, but_....

“And here I thought Alibaba would never have any luck.” Cassim’s grin at her was a little too familiar. “So where’d he find you?”

“On the road to Qishan,” Morgiana said plainly. “When he pulled me out of a desert hyacinth.”

“I helped,” Aladdin grinned. “That’s the biggest flower I’ve _ever_ seen. Too bad it wanted to eat people. It was kind of pretty.”

“Pretty?” Alibaba looked between the two of them like they’d lost their minds. “Tentacle... vine... things! Not pretty!”

But it was Cassim’s lieutenants Morgiana was watching, and both of them had just lost a satisfying amount of color. “There really was a desert hyacinth?” Zainab asked.

“Um... yeah?” Alibaba shrugged. “It was kind of messy. And you should have seen the bill Master Budel hit me with for the wine it took to get them out. Morgiana and a little girl, not Aladdin,” he elaborated at Cassim’s skeptical look. “Though I’m sure Morgiana could have gotten out on her own if it wasn’t so _squishy_ in there. Breaking rocks has got to be a lot easier when you’re not underwater. Or under... something, anyway. It was way too icky to be water.” He waved it off. “So, Sindria’s minister says they want to help, he just has to consult on how. And you’ve got names from Nalci that we can do something about.” He frowned. “Some of them, anyway.”

“Let me guess.” Cassim’s voice was almost unshaken, even as his eyes narrowed into sulfurous slits. “You want to leave the General of the Left alone.”

“Yes, but not for why you’re thinking,” Alibaba said bluntly. “We both know he had to take his orders from the king, or the substitute king. He should have said no. He deserves to answer to the rest of Balbadd, just like Nalci does. But we should hit the Banker _first_.”

“Really.” Cassim drew out the word, hand straying near the odd black sword half-hidden in his robes. “And why is that?”

“Oh, come on; how many times did we pick off the stragglers before we hit the main man of a gang?” Alibaba gave him a look askance. “The Banker’s not from Balbadd. Our people won’t care as much if he goes down. Good riddance. And he’s got Abhmad’s ear. If we take him out, we strike right at the mess the king’s making of trade. Confusion. Chaos. We can _use_ that.”

“Damn right he’s not from Balbadd,” Cassim shot back. “He’s from the Kou Empire. You think they won’t notice?”

Alibaba’s grin had the same edge Morgiana had seen when he’d backed down a whole warehouse full of smugglers. “I’m counting on it.”

“You finally flipped out?” Hassan started.

Cassim held up a hand. Eyed Alibaba, up and down, then the two of them.

Aladdin, Morgiana noticed, looked _interested_. “It’s all about timing, right?” the young magi said. “Like dodging fire tornadoes.”

“Fire _what?_ ” Zainab got out.

“Sinbad’s agents are here,” Cassim said, half to himself. “Sindria’s minister, one of his Generals, and that crazy purple-haired guy who didn’t give his name. We pull it together right, we can get _them_ mixed up in taking out the Banker.”

Morgiana frowned, and traded a look with Aladdin. This wasn’t exactly a straightforward fight... but then, Ja’far _had_ promised to help.

“And then the Kou Empire’s got a few choices to make,” Alibaba agreed. “They could do nothing. The Banker’s not a Kou official, after all; that’s how they’ve managed to pull off this mess this long. So they don’t have an _official_ reason to get mad. They’d probably send another guy in to take his place, but you’ve heard what court’s like. Could take him half a year to round up enough proper introductions to get Abhmad’s ear again. We could do a _lot_ with half a year.”

“Yeah, we could,” Cassim admitted. “You don’t think that’s what’s going to happen, though.”

“I wish I did.” Alibaba almost hugged himself, fingers gripping opposing elbows as he looked into the distance, like tales of scrying the future in water. “I think they’re getting impatient, and greedy. They wormed their way into Balbadd for years; if it weren’t for all of us fighting, they’d probably have bought the country by now. Whoever’s running their strategy has to be damn cranky that they haven’t.”

“So they’re going to move,” Cassim agreed. “And you want Sindria officially here when they do it.”

“If they want to start a fight with the whole Seven Seas Alliance, then one of two things happens,” Alibaba said grimly. “Either we all go down fighting... or we’ve got all Sinbad’s allies on our side.”

Cassim scowled, but didn’t argue the point. “So what if they pick something in-between? There’s a lot of ways to send in a bunch of troublemakers without being _official_.”

“And that, is why I need to ask the Fog Troupe to take a commission,” Alibaba said plainly. “For which you can probably get paid _twice_. Once from me, and once from that crazy purple-haired guy.” He dusted his hands off, and shrugged. “Apparently he took a nap coming into town and got rolled for everything he had. Only in the jewelry and swords was a bunch of Magic Tools. Weird ones, that only somebody with Sinbad’s permission can probably use, so for anyone else they’re just gaudy gold. Worth a lot, sure - but not _nearly_ as much as they’d be worth to us, if the Sindrians are going to help us.”

“And if they don’t help, we still get paid.” Cassim nodded, almost too casual. “Sounds good. So what aren’t you telling me?”

Alibaba tried not to blink. “Er....”

“I think it’s okay.” Aladdin stepped forward. “I know, you said I shouldn’t tell people I’m a magician until I can get some training, but your brother ought to know, right? In case there’s something I can try to do.” He looked up at Cassim, blue eyes weighing the gang-leader as much as Cassim had weighed him. “Alibaba says there are magicians in Sindria. If some of them could come here, I bet I could learn a lot. Right now I can’t do much more than... well, this.”

He lifted the carved staff, and light swirled around old wood.

Cassim’s jaw didn’t drop. But Morgiana could smell his sudden _attention_ , sharp as a drawn blade. “Pretty lightshow.”

_It’s a lot more than that_ , Morgiana thought, remembering a dome of power that had bound her in place, and a gluey globe of light that had stuck her to the wall like a fly in a web. But if Alibaba was wary of this man... better to keep exactly what Aladdin could do to themselves.

“I know, it’s not the kind of water-magic you need,” Aladdin said sheepishly. “But I hope I can learn that, if I get the chance.”

“You found a magician.” Cassim’s gaze flicked to Alibaba. _“How?”_

Alibaba scratched the back of his head, and shrugged. “Would you believe he turned up eating my cargo near Qishan?”

“I didn’t know the watermelons weren’t yours!” Aladdin protested. “And you looked like a good guy.” He blinked up at Cassim, innocent as a dove. “So far most of what I can do is look at the rukh - the life-force around people, and animals, and everything. Did you know Djinn are made of rukh? At least Princess Hakuei’s Djinn Paimon said she was. She’s a Djinn of Wind, and she’s really pretty!”

Dark interest gleamed in Cassim’s gaze. “You met Princess Hakuei? One of the Kou Empire princesses?” He eyed Alibaba. “And _she_ has a Djinn.”

“Aladdin’s made it back here all the way from the edge of the Kou Empire,” Alibaba nodded. “Hakuei’s one of the minor princesses, if our info is right. Daughter of the last emperor. Which means that the Prince and _General_ Kouen Ren we’d identified as their Metal Vessel User... isn’t the only one.”

“Damn.” Cassim’s voice sounded oddly light, even as his lieutenants looked aghast. “It just keeps getting better.”

“Balbadd’s pretty much screwed,” Alibaba agreed. “ _If_ we let them fight on their terms.”

“Fight smart,” Cassim said, half to himself. “Yeah. Going after the General of the Left with that coming down on us... wouldn’t be the best call.” He let out a long breath. “How’s it feel to be right _and_ wrong, oh fearless smuggler Merhdad?”

“Terrifying,” Alibaba said wryly. “But this isn’t impossible. It’s _not_.”

Cassim’s fingers drummed near his hilt. He glanced at Morgiana.

“It’s not,” she affirmed, quietly confident. “A person with a Djinn has great power. But they’re still one person. They still bleed.”

“And just because they have a Djinn, doesn’t mean they have all its power,” Aladdin said soberly. “The Djinn are people, too. Maybe they chose to serve the king who cleared their dungeon, but they still have minds of their own. Maybe we could talk to them.”

“Maybe we could....” Cassim trailed off, looking between Aladdin and Alibaba as if they’d sprouted octopi in their hair. “Seriously? You can _talk_ to Djinn?”

“I can,” Aladdin nodded, blue eyes dark and serious. “It’s not easy, and I have to be pretty close. But I can do it.”

Cassim blinked at all of them. “You plan to _talk_ Djinn out of conquering Balbadd.”

“Worst that can happen is they say no, right?” Alibaba grinned.

Cassim’s glance just flickered to each side, where Zainab was smiling viciously, and Hassan was rubbing what looked like a killer headache. “You... you’re unbelievable.”

“I kind of hope so,” Alibaba agreed. “It’ll only work if they don’t see it coming.”

That loosed Cassim’s laughter; and if it was dark, Morgiana thought, at least it sounded _honestly_ dark. “Man has a point. Oh, my....” He swiped a hand at his eyes. “You just never give up, do you?”

“It’s bad. I know it’s bad,” Alibaba shrugged. “But if we don’t keep trying crazy things they won’t see coming, we _will_ lose. And damn it - we’re _Balbadd_. We’re supposed to be crazy!”

“Was Anis this crazy, Boss?” Hassan wondered. Flinched. “I mean, not my business....”

“Yeah, she was. A little,” Cassim reflected. “Have to say, little brother... I think about your father, and I wonder where the _rest_ of the crazy came from.”

Alibaba glanced down, scent sad; looked back up at Cassim, determined. “You should ask Jahan sometime. He’s got a lot of stories about the ‘merchant Harun’. I wish we’d both met him back then. You could have had all the crazy you could handle.”

“Crazy?” Thick black brows arched. “ _Your_ father?”

“Going out to hunt for island whales,” Alibaba stated. “On purpose. Not to mention....” He shrugged. “If Jahan’s right, he’s the guy who skinned Sinbad down to the bone in the guy’s first trade deal in Reim.”

Morgiana traded a startled look with Aladdin. “Your father knew Sinbad?” she wondered.

“Your father _cheated_ Sinbad?” Aladdin said in disbelief.

“Not cheated! Everything was perfectly honest,” Alibaba said virtuously. “Not Harun’s fault Sinbad didn’t know all the trade laws. Then.”

Cassim was slowly shaking his head. “Your father....”

“What, you thought my family were all upright, spotless citizens, never stretched the laws to the breaking point?” Alibaba spread empty hands. “Sorry. Mom - she was honest. That side of my family... not as much.”

“Your father _cheated Sinbad_.” Aladdin was staring at his friend, as if he didn’t know whether to lift a disapproving finger like an old grandmother, or burst out laughing. “Is that how you know what to do to fight the Kou Empire?”

“It’s how I know some of it,” Alibaba nodded. “Trade and economics lessons. _All_ the time. I-” He hesitated, then looked at Cassim straight on. “Okay. You might not want to know this, but... I haven’t pulled out every tactic we could yet, as merchants. I’m leaving some, the _really_ nasty ones, for if Kou charges in here and takes over.”

“Oh?” Cassim drawled. “Just how nasty are we talking about?”

“The kind of stuff you wouldn’t pull on the next gang over, unless you didn’t plan to stop until every last one of them were dead,” Alibaba stated, unflinching. “Because that’s what the Empire plans to do to us, if they take us over. They may not kill us, but they’ll destroy Balbadd. If they get going on that - I will take them _with_ me.”

“You will.” Cassim’s voice was cold. Just a little doubtful.

“We will,” Morgiana said firmly. Because what Alibaba had described, whole countries destroyed the way Katarg had been - no. No, she wouldn’t wait to see that happen again.

“But if we’re lucky, and I can talk to the Djinn, maybe we won’t have to,” Aladdin put in. “It’s really hard to be scary magic-using bad guys if your magic says no!”

“Magic that can say no.” Cassim seemed to relax a little, shaking his head at the younger boy. “That’s weird. Magic Tools are made to do one thing....” His gaze flicked toward Alibaba. “Aren’t they?”

_He’s suspicious_. Morgiana kept her pose relaxed, as if this weren’t something to worry about at all. She’d had practice.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen a lot of them yet,” Aladdin answered. “I’ve seen Princess Hakuei’s fan, and Alibaba’s knife, and a few other things... could I get a look at yours?”

Cassim’s smile didn’t touch his eyes. “Why not.”

Aladdin touched black steel, and Morgiana held her breath. Nothing odd had ever happened when Aladdin touched his turban, and if Cassim had had a Metal Vessel she doubted any of them would be here, but something about that dark alloy made her skin twitch.

There was a shimmer over Aladdin’s fingers. Like air twisting in desert heat, casting shadows from far away.

“So?” Cassim asked, after a long silence.

“...I don’t know.” Aladdin frowned, lifting his hand away. “Something about it just feels... sad.”

“Sad.” Cassim’s mouth twisted. “Doesn’t tell me anything I didn’t know. That’s Balbadd.” He shrugged, eyeing Alibaba. “You better go talk to the crazy guy. I can ask who rolled him, but looking for his Magic Tools will go better if I have descriptions.”

* * *

_Needs a magician, one falls right into his wagon_ , Cassim thought, watching the dust fall after they’d gone. _That’s Alibaba all over_ -

“Boss.” Zainab had her fist on her hip, studying him as intently as he’d studied the kid and the girl who looked too much like Masrur for comfort. “You know we’re behind you, right?”

“All the way,” Hassan agreed, even if he cast his partner a curious glance. “We work with Alibaba for you, because it makes sense. The pair of you really bust up these Kou bastards.” His grin tugged at his scars. “Like the sun and the moon. Sun makes the winds, moon pulls the tides. Without both of ‘em, your ship’s in trouble.”

“But if it ever came down to a fight, we’re backing you,” Zainab said, flat-out. “So I have to ask. Why do you keep wanting to stab him in the back? And don’t tell me you don’t. The whole Troupe knows it. _Alibaba_ knows it. And he still keeps coming back. He always did have more guts than sense.”

Why? They even had to ask? “He’s lying to us,” Cassim said flatly.

“Oh, and we’re telling him everything,” Zainab shot back, tapping her Fogblade. “Come on, Boss. Alibaba’s leaving stuff out? He’s a _boss_. Of course he does. But lie?” She rolled her eyes. “Why the hell do you think you never took him into the gang? He couldn’t lie if you set him on fire. He just doesn’t work that way.”

Sure he didn’t. “He works fine for the nobles,” Cassim growled.

His lieutenants... blinked at him. “Um, Boss?” Hassan ventured. “Who’s the guy who keeps passing us info on the big houses’ guard schedules, and what they order?”

Details, details. “I don’t trust him,” Cassim said flatly. “The last time things went bad for him, he just ran. He’ll do it again.”

“Boss....” Zainab wet her lips. “I have some people I talk to in the palace staff. One or two of them knew Anis a long time ago, they like people who knew her.... Boss. They say Abhmad went out of his head that night, and Sabhmad was about as ready to stop him as a wet dishrag. Abhmad didn’t blame us for the fire, and King Rashid dying. He blamed _Alibaba_.”

_What?_

For a moment all Cassim could see was red. That was the Fog Troupe’s score, how dare any noble give the credit to Alibaba _again_....

But he was the leader of the Fog Troupe, and he didn’t go cutting down someone just because they brought him bad news. That was a good way to get your people killed.

So he took a breath, and held it, until the blood stopped rushing so much in his ears. Let it out, and looked at Zainab again.

She hadn’t moved, even if she was sweating a little. “He ran, Boss. You know it, I know it, _he_ knows it. But if he hadn’t run, he’d be _dead_.”

Alibaba dead. He... didn’t want that. Mostly. When he had his head on straight. “But he ran.”

Zainab nodded, relaxing a little. “We’ll watch him, Boss. We’ve always watched him. If he turns on you- we’ll give him to you. Gift-wrapped.”

“But you don’t think he will,” Cassim said skeptically. Though damn, that was a nice offer. It was good to know where things stood.

Surprisingly, it was Hassan who shook his head. “Kid’s grown up a lot since we ran together. He’s got people to fight for. I wouldn’t want to be the Kou, Boss. That fire dagger of his... I bet he _is_ hiding something. And he plans to use it if they drop a Djinn in here.”

“Yeah, right,” Cassim _hmph_ ed. “Like anybody could take just a Magic Tool up against a Djinn and live to....”

_Son of a bitch_.

It was impossible. It was crazy. It was _Alibaba_ , for Solomon’s sake, the guy was no way anything like the Sinbad stories-

_But what if it is?_ “A Magic Tool nobody else he’s let try can use,” Cassim said out loud. “Like the ones we’re looking for; only someone with _Sinbad’s permission_ can use them.”

“You think he’s been dealing with Sindria from the start?” Zainab’s eyes narrowed, considering that from every angle. “Huh. Could be. They trade everywhere; the Oasis Cities would be on the list.”

“Maybe,” Cassim muttered. “Or-” He snapped his own jaw shut, almost biting his lip.

“Boss?” Hassan ventured.

“...It’s crazy,” Cassim breathed.

“We’re talking about Alibaba.” The one-eyed thief grinned at him. “Crazy just comes along with him.”

It was still crazy. But- “Magic Tools let _anybody_ use them. That’s what the stories all say. That’s what we’ve seen, with the Fogblades,” Cassim said firmly. “So what kind of magic doesn’t?”

Zainab snorted. “Like we haven’t heard _that_ right out of the... Sinbad stories....” She stared at him, eyes wide as nightfall.

“The traders who’ve come from Qishan say there used to be a Dungeon there.” Cassim shook his head; it _couldn’t_ be possible. “And he’s a _prince_.”

Hassan traded a glance with Zainab, then reached out to pat his boss on the shoulder. “Boss, you need to get out of the sun. You heard the Sinbad stories too. Alibaba, take on a dragon? No way.”

Yeah. Right. What had he been thinking? “Told you it was crazy,” Cassim sighed.

“Put some wet cloths on your head before you think any more,” Zainab advised. “Getting a magic dagger from Sindria? I buy that. But capturing a Dungeon? Alibaba?” She chuckled. “He’s just a scary merchant, Boss. We’ll be fine.”

* * *

_Please let everybody see just another merchant_ , Alibaba prayed, hurrying with his friends through nervous back alleys and streets that smelled of hot copper as a smith fashioned a teapot in the shape of a steaming dragon. The good thing about having a Partevian hat over his hair was that no guard suspected who he really was. The bad thing was they might well suspect he was Merhdad, and not all of them were willing to look the other way if they stumbled on a rough-and-ready marketplace-

Like this one, he realized, as Aladdin and Morgiana headed straight for the blanket of a jeweler with very familiar glossy green beads in her wares. Arranged in a pattern that....

_Damn. There’s trouble_ , Alibaba realized, glancing over Kazmi the jeweler’s neat display. _But not a “guards lurking” trouble. That’s “information you need”_.

Aladdin was grinning, apparently oblivious to Alibaba’s half-heartbeat of hesitation as the magi surged forward. Morgiana’s face had a quiet calm that had probably fooled half the people who saw her into thinking she was nothing to worry about. Those poor idiots.

“Young lady. And the young traveler.” Kazmi deliberately didn’t name him, looking at the younger two with a smile. “Did your Sindrian friend find what he was looking for?”

“We all did,” Aladdin smiled. “Thanks!”

“Well, that’s good to know.” Her gaze flicked to the side, before the jeweler drew it back.

Morgiana frowned; Alibaba rested a hand on her shoulder before she could move, hoping she wouldn’t take it wrong. “Thanks for helping my friends find me,” he said honestly. “If there was something I could do in return...?”

“I’m not sure if there’s anything any of us can do,” the jeweler said bleakly. “If the rumors are true... they can’t be, but why would even nobles order _that much_ red silk...?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we run into another place Magi canon facefaults in front of historical reality. 
> 
> Historical royal weddings, even by treaty - especially by treaty - are a big deal. They are a cause for celebration. (And assassinations.) They are pomp and circumstance and pageantry; the negotiations over whose nobles follow which kingdom’s traditions at which part of the ceremony can take months, or even years. The celebrating can go on for weeks leading up to and after the big event, nobles show up with the newest and latest fashion bling, there’s often free food distributed to all the hungry of the kingdom so as not to blight the wedding with someone’s evil eye... you get the picture. They’re big. And expensive. And _logistical nightmares._
> 
> Yet we’re supposed to believe that before Sabhmad brought news to the Fog Troupe, they didn’t have so much as a whispered rumor that Abhmad was getting himself hitched. 
> 
> Riiiiiight. 
> 
> So. Giving canon the benefit of the doubt, here’s what my bunnies came up with. I propose that the _negotiations_ for Kougyoku’s wedding have, indeed, been going on for months, and have been extremely hush-hush, to the point even Alibaba’s information sources missed them, being focused on, you know, little matters like not having their people starve to death for lack of trade. Or where the Kou are threatening to mass troops. Or what kind of Magic Tools they’ve been rumored to unleash. That kind of thing. 
> 
> Then Kougyoku and her entourage show up on a flying carpet, which Abhmad and co. did not expect at all. And announce, oh here’s the Kou Empire’s high priest Judar, we’re going to have the wedding Right Now. Oh, you need a little time to prepare? Well, this is a bit sudden, we can let you have a week or so. You don’t need any more than that, _right?_
> 
> At which point the palace will be a mass scramble. And then rumors will start getting out, real quick....


	9. The definition of stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stress: What happens when the mind overrides the body's righteous desire to choke the living *Bleep* out of some bastard who desperately deserves it. 
> 
>  
> 
> See also: _Sinbad, dealing with._

“Stealing all the ships in the harbor is _not_ a good plan for helping Balbadd,” Ja’far said firmly, eyeing his king in a manner that had made lesser men run screaming for cover. He didn’t have a headache. Yet. This was just Sinbad’s ordinary level of crazy. He fully expected the extraordinary levels to have kicked in by the time the evening meal rolled around. Or more to the point, just about the time Alibaba and his friends came looking for them. Those poor youngsters.

Sipping the hot tea Ja’far had foisted on them all this afternoon instead of wine, Sinbad just grinned. “Well, you did say we needed a backup plan if everything went to hell. And if we’re going to rescue well over forty thieves, some extremely canny merchants, _and_ all their dependents from Al-Thamen throwing around magical nastiness....”

“Might work,” Masrur agreed. “Could even help. If we told Reim why we stole their boats.”

“Ships. They’re called ships,” Sinbad said patiently. “And no. Tell the legions of Reim we’re up against not only Kou Empire agents using dark Magical Tools, but a centuries-old secret magical conspiracy out to cause chaos and destruction throughout the world? They’d think we were lying. Worse, they might think we were allied with the conspiracy. After all, we don’t let Reim conquer us - and we harbor magicians.”

Ja’far sighed. He hated to admit it, but... Sinbad was probably right. Reim didn’t _formally_ persecute its magicians, but the High Priestess of the Reim Empire had declared that human knowledge was a stronger power than magic. Meaning anyone gifted with magic found themselves seen as something less than even an ordinary bricklayer. If they lived that long, with no teachers to keep them from killing themselves with their own untrained powers.

Those that did survive had mostly fled to Magnostadt. Sindria tried to offer shelter when they could, but all too often that came down to pure luck, a Sindrian merchant recognizing a young Reimish magician in trouble when they didn’t even know _themselves_ what was going on. As a fellow misfit himself, Ja’far considered that frustrating. As Minister of Sindria, all too aware that Magnostadt was next door to their sometimes-ally Actia and possibly next on the Kou Empire’s to-be-conquered list after Balbadd, it was downright _annoying_.

“I wonder if we can talk Alibaba’s smugglers into looking for magicians,” Sinbad mused. “After all, the more of them we find, the fewer Al-Thamen can grab to corrupt- Masrur?”

The Fanalis smiled. “Early guests.”

Taking one step back from the table, Ja’far settled himself in a quick stance anyway. Masrur’s nose could be trusted, but you could never be too careful.

Their suite door opened on a blond already talking. “-Maid said you were still here, why are you still _here_ , world’s gone nuts... eep.”

Aladdin caught the sleeve of Alibaba’s coat and dragged him through the doorway. Morgiana followed both of them, red gaze flicking around the room in a politely obvious search for surprises.

“Hi, Mister Sinbad.” The young magi wasn’t quite grinning. “We found him!”

“Um.” Alibaba was staring at Sinbad in an all too familiar pole-axed way. “Er....”

The ex-assassin sighed. He knew Sinbad had to dazzle people, but he’d had the vague hope that Alibaba, of all people, wouldn’t be swept up in the Sindrian king’s charisma at their very first meeting. At least, not for more than an hour or two, some people managed to shake clear then-

“It’s a trap! Why the heck are you still _here?_ ”

Ja’far blinked. _That was fast_.

Caught mid-charming smile, Sinbad tilted his head. “Ah, but they don’t _know_ I know it’s a trap. So it’s not.”

Alibaba stared at him for one long moment. Glanced at Ja’far and Masrur, and shook his head. “The Kou Empire’s in contact with King Abhmad, which means they know you’re here. They probably know you’ve only got two Generals with you. And if they know what your Metal Vessels look like, somebody probably told them you’re not wearing them. I’m going with, _still a trap_.” He looked straight at Masrur. “You’re Fanalis. Can’t you knock him over the head, tie him up, and drag him out to sea before he talks you out of it?”

“Tempting,” Masrur agreed.

_I am not going to laugh_. Ja’far smirked at Sinbad’s look of startled disbelief. _Have you forgotten? Magic or not, Harun was one of the few people who could run rings around you. And_ would, _if he thought he had cause_.

“So you’re Rashid’s youngest,” Sinbad said thoughtfully, looking the young man up and down with renewed interest. “He wrote some very interesting letters about you. I wish we’d met before.”

“He... did?” For a moment, gold eyes were wide, and far too young. But Alibaba shook it off, stepping farther into the room. “If you’re not going to slip out of town then at least give me some descriptions of what you lost. Cassim will be able to shake down any robbers he finds a lot easier if he knows what pieces of jewelry he’s looking for.”

_Erk_.

Sinbad went stern. “You told Cassim-”

“That the crazy purple-haired guy he met lost some _Magic Tools_ you need Sinbad’s permission to use,” Alibaba cut him off. “He’s not dumb; he might figure out _exactly_ what he’s got, once he gets them. But again, _he’s not dumb_. He knows we need help, and you might have it. You might have to turn over one heck of a ransom, but if Cassim finds your Vessels, you will get them back. That’s worth a little gold, right?”

Masrur frowned, a flex of honed muscles. “You hired thieves.”

Alibaba swallowed, but didn’t flinch. “Have you tried searching all of Balbadd? You’ve got seven lost people out there. Cassim may be a thief, but he’s honest. He will honestly find Sinbad’s Vessels, and _honestly_ demand payment for services rendered. So what’s the problem?”

“Aren’t you worried about them?” Aladdin was studying Sinbad, blue eyes just a little shadowed. “I bet they’re worried about you. They chose you, after all. They can’t be happy that you’re not where they can protect you.”

_Magi can talk to Djinn. And familiar spirits_ , Ja’far recalled, watching Sinbad hide just how startled he was. _To a magi, who can shape the world’s magoi - I suppose Djinn would be people, no matter how powerful they are_.

Interesting, that Alibaba apparently felt the same. The young prince had seen a Djinn’s power in Aladdin’s hands, and still considered them people? He never would have expected that of-

_But Alibaba wasn’t a noble’s son for the first years of his life, was he?_ Ja’far realized. _Just a ragged discard, living in the shadows. Like we used to be_.

Given the lack of confidence Jahan had described, three years in Rashid’s palace hadn’t shaken that off. And yet... here the young man stood, magi by his side, defying Sinbad’s usual insanity with _logic_.

_I didn’t realize how much I missed Rashid_ , Ja’far thought sadly. _And if I do, how much more must Sinbad miss him?_

Enough to temper his usual flippancy for the young magi, at least. “It’s not the first time they’ve been away from me,” Sinbad said gravely. “I’ll make it up to them later.”

“For that we need to _have_ a later,” Alibaba said grimly. “I don’t know how, we’ve been watching the port, the caravan routes, the messenger pigeons - the Kou Empire’s pulling _something_. The whole palace is stirred like an anthill.”

Masrur frowned, and Ja’far nodded. Whatever was amiss, Abhmad could have sent a message to the Sindrian delegation, if he’d wanted to. Evidently, he hadn’t. Which meant Alibaba was likely right, and the Kou Empire was behind this. Though how-?

“Magical communications, possibly,” Sinbad mused. “Or someone sneaking through on a flying carpet.”

Aladdin twitched at that one. Interesting.

Sinbad seemed to ignore it. “So what’s going on?”

“Outside of the palace sending servants out to buy all the red silk in town?” Alibaba lifted a hand, voice taking on an oddly familiar distracted note as he ticked off fingers. “Already sent word out for people to ship that into port if they can, Fikri could make a profit and it lets us get some friendly ships in if things go wrong.... The goldsmiths are getting orders for new festival-wear. There’s a demand for rock eels and eumera snapper. The spice merchants are getting cleaned out of saffron and spikenard, the perfumers are almost wiped out of rose attar, and some poor kitchen maid is searching the whole market for oranges.” Alibaba gave Sinbad a rightfully suspicious look. “If there’s an orange anywhere in the next _two nations_ , this time of year, I haven’t heard about it. It _sounds_ like a palace celebration. But the timing’s all wrong.”

Red silk, oranges, and gold jewelry. Ja’far tried not to wince, even as Masrur’s frown deepened.

Sinbad... blinked. “Ouch. That poor young lady.”

“I know,” Alibaba said impatiently, “that’s why I think it’s the Kou, classic put your lienee over a barrel by demanding the impossible-”

“No, no,” Sinbad waved it off, “though yes, that poor girl is going to have a hard time, maybe someone can slip her some preserves to bring in as a substitute... well. There’s no easy way to say this.” A hint of a grin played over his face. “Alibaba, you’re about to become a brother-in-law.”

_“...What?”_

Prepared by many, many years of past experience, Ja’far had Alibaba by the shoulders before the young man could actually try to strangle his king. Barely. Alibaba was _fast_.

_Sorry. If anyone strangles him, it’s going to be me_.

* * *

“Lemme up!”

Sitting on kicking feet on Sinbad’s couch, Aladdin watched Morgiana sit on Alibaba’s back and stroke down the spike of his hair. Red eyes crinkled, amused, when stubborn locks sprang right back up again. “Killing your brothers for stupidity would be _wrong_ ,” the Fanalis said solemnly.

“Gnrgh!”

“I know it’s difficult, but you have to think of your own fate.” Sinbad’s solemn tone did not match his grin. At all. “If there’s someone here to marry a royal of Balbadd, killing them might land _you_ on the hook.” He paused. “Then again, she might be pretty....”

Alibaba took a deep breath. And sighed it out, going almost limp. “Okay. I’m... just... I can handle debts. I can handle liens. I can handle the crazy idiot Fan. But a _marriage contract-!_ ”

It was almost a wail. Aladdin got off Alibaba’s feet, letting Morgiana shift aside so he could hug Alibaba’s shoulders as his friend tried to get up. “That hurts, doesn’t it? Because your parents-?”

“No!” Alibaba hesitated. “Well, yes, and... it’s the _same damn mistake_. That my - that King Rashid made. Getting married for politics, and then the whole family fights, and even if Kou didn’t mean to wipe out Balbadd, how do you raise someone to be a good king in the middle of that...?”

“And Hinahoho keeps telling me to settle down,” Sinbad mused. But he’d lost the grin, amber eyes serious now. “You’ve been on the battle lines for the past six months. When’s the last time you took a night off?”

Scrunched in between Aladdin and Morgiana, Alibaba stared at him. “This is no time to relax!”

“Yes it is,” Masrur spoke up. “They’re not getting married tomorrow.”

Aladdin frowned. Yes, he could see Alibaba was tense enough to trip over his own feet, but still.... “You don’t know that.”

“Oh, yes we do.” Sinbad’s smile had a dangerous edge. “After all, there’s no way an old ally of Sindria could get away with not inviting the local representatives to the wedding. Right?”

“And there’s no way a king could get away with _selling the marine rights_ ,” Alibaba shot back. “Abhmad did _that_ months ago.”

Sinbad seemed to sigh a little. “First thing you’re planning to buy back, I take it?”

“Unless I find something worse.” Alibaba’s hands twitched; as if he wanted to just bury his face in them and not come out, Aladdin thought. Only his friend was way too stubborn to do that in front of Sinbad.

“So what could be worse than selling the marine rights?” Aladdin wondered. “What are marine rights, anyway?”

Alibaba glanced at him, with a raised brow that said he was _not_ buying the innocent Magi act. “Basically, who’s got the right to do what in the waters around Balbadd. Not the open sea, even the Kou Empire can’t claim that, but within a few miles of shore. It might not seem to make that much difference to the city here on firm land, we got trade going so people wouldn’t starve... but that’s only going to keep the islands going so long. Right now the Empire could send in fishing fleets to scoop out everything around Balbadd and we couldn’t _legally_ do anything about it.”

The room seemed to shake a little around Aladdin. Because he’d met Hakuei, she wouldn’t do that to people-!

_She wouldn’t make them slaves, either_ , Aladdin thought reluctantly. _That general that was with her, who tried to kill her - he thought he could get away with it. If a lot of the Kou Army is like him, and not her_....

“Starving people out is an old siege tactic,” Masrur stated. “That’s what the Kou bankers are doing. It just doesn’t look like starving to the nobles, because they have Fan to buy what they want. And Abhmad keeps getting more. Your friend,” he nodded at Alibaba, “is trying to keep people from _really_ starving, which is good - but he’s not using Fan, and the nobles are. So the kingdom isn’t getting the taxes a king uses to run things. It’s a mismatch.” He held out both hands, palms up, going up and down like weights in an unbalanced scale. “Money on one side doesn’t get to the other, except through bribes, and Merhdad and the Fog Troupe taking over things the king’s government used to do. If your friend moves fast enough to buy out the Kou and get Balbadd back on coin money... it will be a mess, but Balbadd will make it. But if the Kou keep dealing with the nobles, they’ll take everything from Abhmad and Alibaba won’t be able to buy it back.”

Sinbad raised a dark brow.

The Fanalis’ lips curved. “I listen to you two go at it.”

Ja’far smiled at that.

“So the merchants are spies breaking a siege.” Morgiana brightened. “And the Fog Troupe are your saboteurs inside the walls.”

“The Fog Troupe are Cassim’s,” Alibaba said firmly. “He works _with_ me. I don’t give him orders. Ever.” He sighed. “I don’t know what I did, but... he’s been angry at me a long time. Making sure he knows I won’t touch the Fog Troupe - that helps. It’s the only thing that seems to help.”

Sinbad’s eyes narrowed, just a little; like a desert cat deciding whether or not to pounce. “If you don’t know why he’s angry, then it may not be you at all,” he shrugged. “It’s always easier to get angry at family than Fate.” He cast a glance at Ja’far and Masrur. “We know a thing or two about defying Fate. It’s worth it - but it’s never easy.”

“Do you think we’re defying Fate, Mister Sinbad?” Aladdin wondered. “Or just the Kou Empire?”

“Interesting question.” Sinbad leaned back, considering it. “The Kou would definitely say taking over Balbadd is their fate. Al-Thamen’s certainly encouraged them to think so. But I think, no matter how dark it looks, this city’s fate is not yet written.”

“Al-Thamen?” Alibaba tensed, wary.

And he _should_ be, Aladdin thought, watching Ja’far’s gaze flick toward Sinbad, and Masrur relax the way Morgiana did before she pounced. Whatever this was, it was important.

“I’ve tried to talk to other nations about this, but most rulers just can’t believe any conspiracy this large could stay a secret.” Sinbad’s fingers tapped his arm, as if missing the weight of metal. “If we were talking about normal organizations, I’d agree with them. But Al-Thamen uses spells even my best magicians don’t know. If you plan to keep company with a magi, Alibaba, I hope you do believe me. Aladdin will be their target; even more than I am, or Balbadd is.”

Aladdin gulped. _I will?_

Alibaba reached out to hug him, not taking his eyes off Sinbad. “The Kou aren’t the only ones after Balbadd. _Why_.”

“Because your father, and his ancestors before him, always stood against the Abnormalities of the World,” Sinbad answered. “War, plagues, slavery - all the things that spread despair in the world, dye the rukh from white to black. And while white rukh lends its strength to the Magi... black rukh powers the magicians of Al-Thamen.”

Oh. Oh, that was scary, and awful. It was nice that the rukh loaned him magoi, but Baba had said that magicians could do plenty with their own powers. How evil did you have to be to want people _hurting_ just so you could get more power-

And now he had to hug Alibaba, who looked as pale and scared as Aladdin felt. Because even if Alibaba didn’t ever want to be king, he still cared about Balbadd. If Abhmad was wrecking it because he was careless and didn’t know how to be a good king- well, that was bad. But knowing someone was hurting Balbadd’s people on purpose? That was _horrible_.

Morgiana sat very straight, gaze flickering to Masrur. “How do we fight magicians?”

“Carefully,” the older Fanalis nodded. “Fanalis resist magic. But we’re not immune.”

“The problem with Al-Thamen is they usually don’t come out to fight,” Ja’far stated, hands up his sleeves in a pose that only looked calm. The rukh around him glimmered brighter with determination, singing something about _hunting_. “They warp. They manipulate. They cast compulsion spells on people already willing to lead an angry mob, and after the blood’s stopped flowing, the Kou soldiers come in as _heroes_ , because they’ve put an end to the violence.”

“And they’re magicians, so... if they’re watching Balbadd, they might know I’m here,” Aladdin realized.

“What?” Alibaba’s fingers clenched on his vest. “How- the rukh? But you haven’t done anything like....”

_Amon’s Dungeon_ , Aladdin finished silently. “No, but magicians can see the rukh all the time. Not just when there’s a lot.” He shrugged. “But if the Al-Thamen magicians haven’t come after me yet... maybe there’s still time.” He turned an innocent look on Sinbad. “You wouldn’t mind staying out of trouble for a few days, right? So we can write a fate that’s _really_ different.”

“Oh?” Sinbad gave him a curious look, then glanced at Morgiana’s determined calm and Alibaba’s fingers fretting with the edge of his coat. “What did you have in mind?”

“It’s not going to be safe,” Alibaba started.

“It’s _never_ going to be safe,” Aladdin said firmly. “Ugo said it was dangerous. But we need their help. Balbadd needs their help. And your brothers and the Kou Empire aren’t going to come after Sinbad right _here_ , right? And he’ll have Masrur and Ja’far to help if Al-Thamen shows up. I’ll be as safe as I can get. I’ll be safer than you; I know you’re going to go out there and find more trouble to get into.” He stared up into gold. “Be careful? Please?”

Alibaba winced, but nodded.

“Dangerous?” Ja’far said sharply.

“The Djinn don’t have all the power they could in our world,” Aladdin said plainly, looking straight at Sinbad. “They can’t really talk to you, so sometimes when they try to give you power they’re just guessing what you want. Ugo says there might be a way to fix that.”

Sinbad’s jaw almost dropped. “Talk to Djinn. Outside a Dungeon.”

Aladdin nodded. “We might be able to do it. Only - Ugo said I need to... go somewhere else for a while. Without my body. And someone’s got to look after it.”

“And I’ve got to keep moving, or the smugglers are toast,” Alibaba said heavily. “I don’t want to leave you. I just found you. Or, well, you found me-”

“And if I have to, I’ll find you again.” Aladdin crossed his arms, and tried to look as fierce as Hakuei staring down arrows. “You need help, and I’m going to go find it. And Morgiana’s going to keep you out of trouble while I’m gone.”

“Hey!” Alibaba protested. Caught Morgiana’s small smile, and reddened. “I don’t try to find trouble.”

“You don’t have to,” Morgiana stated. “It finds you.”

Alibaba raised a hand - as if he was going to object, possibly with a lot of swearing involved - then, sighing, let it drop. “Mom always said that, too.”

Out of the corner of his eye Aladdin caught Ja’far’s sudden odd look. Then he shook his head, white hair ruffled under his headdress; as if whatever he’d thought had just been too silly to believe.

_Too bad. I think we could use a little silly_ , Aladdin thought. “So, if I’m going to be out for a while... magic takes a lot of stomach power! Let’s eat!”

* * *

Standing by the magi’s bed as Aladdin’s breathing slowed, Alibaba wondered. How thick did the rukh have to be for him to see it, like he had in Amon’s Dungeon? Right now he felt a pressure, and he thought he saw flickers out of the corner of his eye - but both of those could have been his imagination. He didn’t _know_ anything about magic, not really-

Morgiana’s hand brushed his arm. “He’ll be fine.”

“We don’t know that.” Alibaba swallowed dryly. “We don’t _know_ magic, all we’ve got is stories. And I know Aladdin trusts Ugo, but he said this was going to be dangerous, and... I just wish I could get him away from here!”

“I doubt he’d go.” Sinbad lounged in the doorway, eyeing the still form on the bed. “Magi tend to either drop you in the middle of trouble and vanish, or find someone they like and just keep showing up. Whether or not they’re wanted,” he added, half to himself. “Aladdin likes your company. And frankly, he could do much worse. I wonder how old magi have to be before they start raising Dungeons?”

Alibaba tried not to freeze. _He can’t know. No way_. “Oh no,” he said out loud. “Not a chance. The last thing Balbadd needs is a tower of death and destruction in the middle of it.” He shrugged. “Besides, the Kou Empire has Dungeon Capturers, right? They’d know what a Dungeon showing up might lead to. If I were them, and I were trying to take over Balbadd - if someone raised a Dungeon, I’d call it an act of war.”

Which was a thought that had hit him about two months into his fight for Balbadd’s trade, waking him up in a pure cold sweat of fear. It was one thing for agents of the Kou Empire to know they were fighting bandits and smugglers with Magic Tools. If they realized someone fighting them had a Djinn-

_They wouldn’t have any reason to hold back_ , Alibaba thought, chilled. _They could just flatten us all, and as long as they left Abhmad alive, they could look innocent and say they were taking out a challenge to his throne. Because everyone_ knows _Dungeon Capturers become kings_.

Everyone. Even Cassim. And that - that hurt.

_I don’t want to be king! I saw what it did to- to King Rashid. I’m not strong enough. I’d screw up. I always screw up. Why can’t Cassim believe me?_

Morgiana’s breath was a warm flutter by his shoulder. “We should get moving.”

Yeah. The longer they stayed here, the more attention Merhdad might draw. Sinbad had been kind of sketchy about exactly what his magicians could do, but he’d admitted Al-Thamen might have ways of pointing their people toward an enemy even if they’d never seen him face to face. Meaning magicians who were looking for a smuggler might stumble on a magi - and who knew how visible Aladdin’s spirit-trip might be?

Plus one of Cassim’s message-runners had squirmed into the Traveler’s Rest through a back window, with word that there might be news on the _commission_.

_Please let it be true_ , Alibaba prayed, nodding to Ja’far as the white-haired minister slipped into the room around Sinbad. “Thanks for looking after him.”

“I have some experience protecting targets,” Ja’far observed. “And if negotiations with the Fog Troupe’s leader are as delicate as you all imply, it’ll be better if Cassim meets Masrur again, rather than a stranger.” Gray eyes held his gaze, calmly worried. “Are you sure you don’t know why he’s angry?”

At a loss, Alibaba shook his head. “A lot happened that last year. His dad disappeared, Mom took him and Miriam in, she... died....” He couldn’t help but wince. “And then King Rashid showed up, and Cassim threw me out. I think he just hates nobles, but....”

“But.” Ja’far inclined his head, thoughtful. “I’ll have to see him for myself, once Aladdin is back with us.” He glanced past his king to where Masrur lurked in the hall shadows. “Be careful. Fanalis may be resistant to magic, but don’t let them hit you if you can avoid it.”

Which just seemed like a good idea in general, Alibaba thought. Though based on the little magic he’d seen Aladdin do, dodging spells would be a lot harder than sliding away from a sword.

_Another good reason to talk to Amon_ , Alibaba decided, following Morgiana out no matter how much he wanted to stay. _Djinns have to know a lot about magic, right? They are magic. Or, well, rukh. However that works_.

He wanted to know _exactly_ how it worked. Because “Djinns use your magoi to do magic” was about as helpful as “gold is worth more than silver.” His father would have choked to death rather than send someone into a market that unprepared. How much magoi did a Djinn need? What could Djinns do? What _couldn’t_ they do? Were there ways to leverage a small amount of magoi over time into a big effect, like interest on a loan? Because if there weren’t, Balbadd was going to be flattened just as soon as the Kou Empire decided it was worth it to put both of their Metal Vessel Users to work on kingdom-level demolition.

_I’d really rather not know any of it_ , Alibaba thought wryly, stepping out into the cooling Balbadd night. _If I thought learning swordplay was awful... Amon’s going to make me work for it all, I just know it. But damn it - if he doesn’t want to leave, I’ve got to know_.

After all, if Sinbad was telling the truth about Al-Thamen, Alibaba would bet they went after Metal Vessel Users as well as kingdoms. Or magi. What were the odds some magical conspiracy wouldn’t eventually figure out who he really was?

_Just let me get Balbadd safe, first. Then... then we’ll see who’s better at running_.

They had to dodge a few of the inn’s staff tidying up tables, but the courtyard outside by the canal was fairly quiet. The fog was threatening to come up, after all... and given the rich nobles this area catered to, the smarter denizens probably weren’t interested in meeting the Fog Troupe face to face.

_So what does that make us?_ Alibaba thought wryly, moving to one side with Morgiana as thieves started appearing out of the night’s mist, pale robes barely there in the torchlight. Sinbad was the guy with Djinns on the line here. Let him make his own case to the guy hunting down glittery jewelry.

The very _cocky_ guy who’d been hunting down jewelry, and who now looked Sinbad up and down like he was deciding which way to dice him. Not good.

Sinbad weighed him right back, and nodded. “I take it you have something of mine.”

“Looks like I might.” Cassim reached into his robes left-handed, taking out a loosely-wrapped bundle of cloth. Clean rags half-fell away from a headpiece that glittered gold and ruby and lapis-blue in flickering torch flames. An ornament that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than what it was: the formal jewels of the King of Sindria.

Cassim’s smile was a desert jackal’s, cold and cruel and _hungry_. “Something you want to tell me about our guest, _Merhdad?_ ”

_Don’t back down. Look weak, and he’ll break it off right here_. “A client’s a client,” Alibaba shrugged, trying for casual. “I wouldn’t tell him where to find you, even if he asked. Why should I give you a name when he needs a low profile? You have a problem with the commission, you two figure it out.”

Sinbad’s eyebrows jumped at that one. Masrur... looked amused. If Alibaba was reading that slight crease of red eyes right, and he wasn’t just unhappy with the fish that’d turned up at dinner.

“Oh, that’s rich,” Cassim almost growled. “Like where to find me is anything like-”

“Dealing with the King of Sindria?” Sinbad cut him off smoothly. “I’d say it is, honestly. After all, we both have a lot of lives riding on our secrets, Cassim. I doubt you feel any less for your thieves than I do for my kingdom.” He waved a hand at the headpiece. “It’s a pretty trinket, but it’s not the most important thing I’m looking for. So! Shall we negotiate?”

A slow clap echoed through the night.

_Above?_ Alibaba jerked his head up, seeing Morgiana and Masrur just as startled, and how the hell had someone snuck up on two _Fanalis_ -

A carpet floated in the night air, almost a drift of fog itself. Standing on it was a grinning man, maybe Cassim’s age; long black braid blowing in the wind, thin midriff bared by black loose pants and a half-shirt, arms and throat ringed in gleaming gold.

“Dealing with thieves, Sinbad?” The grin spread wider as he floated down; still not low enough for one of Morgiana’s leaps. “Aw. That’s so _boring!_ ”

“Masrur,” Alibaba whispered, hoping the guy’s ears were as good as Morgiana’s. “Who the heck-?”

“Judar,” the Fanalis rumbled, low and quiet. “Magi. With our shadow enemies. Trouble.”

_Al-Thamen just found us_ , Alibaba realized. _And - a magi, he can see the rukh - Solomon, please let all the lightshow be inside!_

“Cutting a deal with the bandits that pig Abhmad expects you to destroy.” Judar _tch_ ed. “You really are an idiot king.”

“Did Abhmad send you?” Sinbad’s stance was tense, definitely missing the weight of a sword. “Or the Kou Empire?”

“Abhmad? Send _me_ anywhere?” That drew a laugh. “He’s not worth the time for me to swat him. I ought to let the princess get a good look before the wedding. She wouldn’t leave more than a grease spot!”

Alibaba twitched, listening hard. Abhmad himself was no fighter, he knew that - but General Barkakk was still head of the guards, and no ordinary princess stood a chance of getting past him.

_Then again, maybe she’s no ordinary princess_ , Alibaba thought. _What if they sent Princess Hakuei? She’s Aladdin’s friend. We might be able to talk_ -

“And the Kou... eh.” Judar waved a hand. “They’re going after this petty kingdom the soft way. No fun at all. You know what I like, Sinbad. _War!_ ”

Anyone who liked war was utterly insane. But Alibaba kept listening, lifting his hand just a little when Morgiana might have moved. One of their enemies was talking. He’d take all the information he could get.

“There’s no reason they should play nice,” Judar sniffed. “The Kou are strong! They’ve got plenty of soldiers-”

_Knew that_.

“-A general who’s a Dungeon Capturer-”

_So we guessed right about that too. Damn_.

“-And an army of dungeon creatures!”

_...Didn’t know that_. Alibaba shivered. An army of the kind of things he’d run into in Amon’s Dungeon? Who could face that?

“But I don’t like the Kou Emperor,” Judar pouted. “I’d much rather join you. What do you say? Let’s team up and conquer the world!”

“Not interested.” Sinbad folded his arms, eyeing the dark magi as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on all that gold and sink Judar in the harbor with it. “Sindria doesn’t need to conquer the world. We’re not afraid of different ways, strange peoples. How weak are the Kou, that even a little kingdom like Balbadd is such a threat?”

_He’s deliberately ticking off a magi_. Alibaba tried not to let his jaw drop. _Sinbad is insane_.

Red eyes narrowed. Then Judar smiled again, sly and knowing. “Are you _sure_ you don’t need to? The Kou plan to conquer _you_. When they get around to it. But first, they’re going to tear this city down to its foundations....”

Cassim’s breath hissed, hand on his Fogblade.

“Unless someone stops them.” Judar blinked slow and lazy at the Fog Troupe’s leader, red eyes almost glowing. “Well. And how long have you been trapped in the gutters here, with barely a taste of power?”

_A magi with Al-Thamen_ , Alibaba thought, chilled. _Ja’far said they use compulsion spells on people who are already angry_ \- “Cassim!”

“Boss, get out of here!” Zainab had her own red blade out, staring down the magi like a village dog might a desert hyena. Startled, Hassan moved to guard Cassim’s other side. “That floating jerk is crazy!”

“Ooo, harsh,” Judar whistled, floating even lower. “And that from one of the... Fog Troupe, is that what you call yourselves? Valiant bandits, killing and stealing so the poor brats in the streets can live. Why not get them out of the streets, forever?” His face was mild as milk, only the red eyes dancing. “I’m a magi. A chooser of kings. And you... _you_ don’t deserve to be here. I could give you the power to beat back the Kou Empire, if....” He held out a hand.

“And let in Al-Thamen instead?” Alibaba stepped up to guard Zainab’s side, Morgiana moving with him to form a living wall between the surprised bandit chief and the eerie magi. “You feed on fear and hate! You wouldn’t fix Balbadd; you’d just make different people suffer!”

“What the hell are you-” Cassim started.

“You heard what he said, Boss,” Zainab cut him off. “He _likes war_. What kind of crazy guy likes it when people get killed? Maybe we want the nobles put down, but look at him! He doesn’t care why. He just wants blood!”

Judar ignored her, eyeing Sinbad. “So you know _that_ name.” The magi tapped his fingers together, amused. “Someone’s been _telling_....”

“You didn’t think your masters could keep the secret forever, did you?” Sinbad smiled, radiating confidence with Masrur at his back. “By the time Balbadd’s done with you, Al-Thamen will be stripped naked for all the world to see.” His voice went wry. “I don’t think it’ll be pretty.”

_Oops_ , Alibaba thought, wanting to smack himself. _Great. Just great. Made myself a nice, big target_.

Then again, it was him or risk Judar sensing Aladdin. No contest.

_Think, think; we’ve got to get this crazy away from here_ -

“By the time _Balbadd’s_ done with us?” Judar almost giggled, stifling it behind a hand. “You can’t bluff me this time, idiot king. If _this_ is all Balbadd can throw against the Kou, they’re toast. Look at them! A bunch of rag-tag thieves, and a kitten of a merchant defending a lion. What a joke....”

Alibaba tensed, realizing that red eyes had stopped scanning the crowd. And focused on him, not Cassim.

_Why?_

From the cold fury on Cassim’s face, _he_ thought he knew why.

_No. Damn it, no. I’m not trying to take anything from you, this guy is a crazy magical nut, you don’t_ want _his attention_ -

“Well.” Judar’s voice was suddenly serious. And cruelly amused. “Now that’s interesting.” A wave of pale fingers, and-

Pressure squeezed Alibaba’s mind; like he’d been caught between a hammer and a glowing-hot anvil. Familiar pressure, like Amon trying to push words past his tongue to call their power together. Only this wasn’t a calling-out of power, but a drawing-in....

_Amon’s - fighting him,_ Alibaba realized, sweating, hand on the hilt of his knife. _He won’t come out, not for_ this _magi_ -

Pressure eased like a lifting storm, as Judar grinned; pointing at the Seal that glimmered gold for all to see.

_Oh no_. Alibaba saw the dawning realization in Cassim’s face; saw the rage, blazing away reason in fox-yellow eyes. _Oh Solomon, no_....

Judar smirked, bouncing on his carpet like a giddy child. “So. Whose king are _you?_ ”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon Alibaba had been in an unwinnable scenario, and knew it. Long-term result, depression. 
> 
> In this AU Alibaba’s been fighting the past several months to pull off a win, saw a chance - and then _this_ idiocy with the marriage. Hence the spot of temporary insanity in the inn bit. 
> 
> ...And honestly, who doesn’t want to strangle Sinbad....


	10. That One Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire, explosions, tidal waves, and a kidnapping.
> 
> ...Nope, it's probably not who you think.
> 
> (Otherwise known as, Judar grabbed part of this chapter and ran with it. Eep.)

If Judar hadn’t been such a real and present danger, Sinbad might have laughed out loud.

_Alibaba is a Dungeon Capturer. Rashid’s son has a Djinn - and no one knew about it_.

No wonder Al-Thamen hadn’t taken over Balbadd yet. They’d thought they were biting into a soft, warm cherry tart - and broken a tooth on the pit.

Morgiana was the only one who didn’t look surprised. Which, Sinbad reflected, actually _didn’t_ surprise him. Ja’far had suspected she and Aladdin knew Alibaba’s secrets. And who among his Generals was better at ferreting out what others didn’t want known?

_Oh, poor Ja’far_ , Sinbad thought gleefully. _He thought he was just dealing with a stubborn prince. I can hear the swearing even now_....

Er. From the look of him, Cassim was going to move straight past swearing to steel and blood. Alibaba, no fool, had already side-stepped so Zainab was between himself and the outraged Fog Troupe leader; a startling reaction for someone who’d claimed Cassim as his foster brother-

_The foster brother he didn’t tell_ , Sinbad realized, mind racing. _Because he was afraid of exactly this_.

Judar’d lifted back up and out of range of any outraged leap, laughing in real joy. “Hey, old hag! You’re in luck. The idiot king’s missing his Vessels, too bad, but I found someone you can play with!” Another peal of honest laughter. “After all, _Merhdad_ , you’re a wanted man. In the Kou Empire - and here!”

* * *

_There’s another carpet_ , Alibaba realized, as it sailed in front of the moon and down toward them. _A bigger one. With a lot of people on it, and Kou Empire symbols_ -

And a girl in multi-layered formal robes, taking out - a hairpin?

“Spirit of sorrow and separation-”

_Amon!_

Every torch went out.

* * *

Surprise cut short her incantation, as Kougyoku blinked in the sudden darkness. What kind of Djinn did Merhdad have? Light would make sense; the rumors Judar had brought her said Merhdad’s smugglers called down some kind of magical darkness. Though none of them had said he was young and maybe kind of cute....

_Cute doesn’t matter!_ she told herself firmly. _He’s running from a fight with_ me. _I’m a warrior! I earned this battle_ -

Later she’d never be sure if she’d seen a shadow, or felt a warm puff of air. She whirled, summoning Vinea’s water without incantation, greatsword forming just in time to-

Steel clanged on solid water, fires raging along the edge of an oddly plain knife.

_A knife? He’s coming after me with just a_ knife?

Kougyoku pouted, exerting Vinea’s strength to hold his blade and push him back. If he couldn’t even Equip this wasn’t really going to be a fair fight at all....

Though Kouha would say there was never such a thing as a fair fight, and Merhdad had already surprised her once. She shouldn’t-

The blond grinned at her.

And _sidestepped_ , she’d never seen anybody just slide out from under a Djinn’s strength like that, fire lashing out from his blade down, and then across-

Bodice on fire, Kougyoku shrieked in outrage.

* * *

_She’s good!_

Alibaba bolted for the edge of the carpet, diving back into the courtyard to roll back to his feet. He didn’t have much of a plan, but so far it was working; the Kou princess was following him in a screaming fury, oblivious to the shouts and swears from the rest of the people on the burning carpet.

“Oooo... maybe we should keep you!” Judar cackled overhead. “The hag hasn’t screeched like that in _years!_ ”

“Don’t call me a hag!” Came the indignant shriek pursuing him. “It’s Kougyoku! Princess Kougyoku Ren of the Kou Empire!” A twisting lash of water almost took Alibaba’s head off. “And who are you? This is a fight between warriors! Tell me who I’m going to kill!”

Not Hakuei, Alibaba realized. Meaning the Kou Empire had at least _three_ Dungeon Capturers, and damn it, the world was not fair.

...Her sword was raised and still, water shivering around it like a hungry sea. She was actually waiting for an _answer_. Argh. Nobles.

And damn all the training Barkakk had hammered in, because he was saluting her back before he’d thought twice. Because a fight between nobles was never just about killing the other guy, damn it.

“Sorry,” Alibaba panted. “Merhdad’s going to have to do. You’re way too dangerous for anything more, princess of Kou.”

“Really?”

Alibaba blinked, the noise of the rest of the fights going on seeming to fade. Was she sparkling at him?

“Then tell me the name of your Djinn!” Kougyoku insisted, wet flakes of her seared pink bodice slipping down to reveal yet another formal layer of pale gold silk. “I won Vinea, who rules the seas! Who do you carry?”

_Who. She called her Djinn a_ who. _If what Aladdin does works, then maybe... idiot, have to live through tonight first!_ “Amon,” Alibaba said firmly, focusing on the fire within his blade.

“Wait, what?” Judar almost tumbled off his carpet. “You can’t- I _closed_ that Gate after that idiot Jamil went through, how the hell-?”

_You’re the one who tossed Aladdin halfway across the world?_ Alibaba felt a surge of fury, and knew not all of it was his.

Plenty of it was, though. He’d been worried sick about Aladdin for months, he’d had _no_ chance to talk to Amon before he’d wound up with a Djinn in his knife, and he’d been fighting for Balbadd for months against Judar’s fellow dark magicians and never knew....

_If I get the chance, you’re going down_.

If. First he had to survive the Imperial silk waterspout.

_“What did you call me?”_

Oops.

* * *

_Alibaba has a Djinn_ , Cassim thought, blood pounding in his veins as... things... leapt off the scorched flying carpet. _Alibaba conquered a Dungeon_.

Though somehow even that wasn’t as much of a betrayal as Alibaba saluting that damn enemy princess _in the middle of a fight_. When he should have been running, or killing her.

_Not one of us. Never one of us_.

And now Alibaba was mocking her, _taunting_ her; dodging razor-lashes of water instead of moving in and just getting it over with.

_Weak. Coward. Doesn’t have the strength to take her head-on. What kind of prince does he think he is, if he can’t even face Balbadd’s enemies?_

“Heh. Not quite as dumb as he looks, is he?” Judar was floating low, almost in grabbing range, watching the fight with an excited grin. “If he can’t even use a partial Equip, his best chance is to try and wear her out; make her throw power at him until she runs out of magoi.” A jingling shrug. “It’s a lousy chance. The hag’s pretty strong! But I suppose it’s the best he can do.” Red eyes fixed on Cassim. “I wonder. Could you do better?”

Teeth bared, Cassim raised his Fogblade. “Watch me.”

“Hah! With _that?_ ” Judar’s lip curled, like a fastidious cat scenting spoiled milk. He drew a silvery wand from his clothes, ruby tip gleaming. “Tch. Even the idiot king could throw that magic off. It’s _weak_. Poisoned. Who gave you that thing? Tell me so I can kill them.”

_Poisoned?_ Cassim hesitated. Because Alibaba’s magician had said his blade was sad, and that Morgiana had flinched from it, and here was a third person, a magi, who didn’t know him from the next alley-rat over and still said there was something wrong with the weapons the arms dealer had sold them....

“You know what? Tell me later.” Judar’s wand waved, an odd purple glow surrounding it. “I like your style, but the hag’s been _dying_ for someone to take her seriously. We’ll just let them duke it out, ‘kay? And then you can tell me all about the idiot magician who made _that_ for someone who could be a _king_.”

_I could be...?_

Sleep flattened him.

* * *

Whatever these veiled creatures were who’d jumped off the Kou carpet, they were good, Masrur thought. Even striking together with Sinbad and Morgiana, they were barely holding two of the beasts at bay; one that smelled like elephant-hide and hunger, and another that reeked of tiger fur. A third was tearing his way through the Fog Troupe, a thick musk of monkey drifting in his wake.

Alibaba wasn’t going to be any help. Not if the youngster had any smarts. The Kou princess had pulled out her Weapon Equip, she obviously knew what she was doing with that oversized water-sword, and she was determined to, if not _kill_ him, at least mangle Alibaba unconscious.

_And he hasn’t even got a partial Equip_ , Masrur thought, straining against gray muscle stronger than even an elephant’s trunk. _Good thing... he can dodge_....

Sinbad dove in with a flat-hand strike that shuddered the air around his enemy’s chest.

_Magoi strike. That should hurt it_ -

The monster gave a trumpeting scream, and Masrur was flying.

* * *

Sparks flew off the stones where Morgiana’d been standing moments before, a tiger’s snarl erupting from behind the swordsman’s veil. “Stand still, flea!”

Morgiana didn’t bother to sniff at that. Stand still? Why would she ever want to do that, when she could flip up-

Over-

Aim at the back of the neck, coming down to _strike_ -

A flash of steel and a waft of tiger-musk; she twisted in mid-air, feeling the edge of his sword skim just past her legs.

_Fast!_

Morgiana touched down on paving stones a bare instant, breathed-

Dropped like a rock.

Masrur sailed through where her head had been, striking the tiger-swordsman dead in the chest. He reeled back with a coughing roar.

Morgiana grabbed the trunk writhing over her head, used it to flip herself back up into the air again. Their foes were strong, but - something wasn’t _right_ in how they fought. Maybe switching opponents would throw them off?

Screams cut the air.

_The Fog Troupe_ , Morgiana knew, catching a glimpse of bodies and blood before she had to focus on the lash of gray muscle trying to tear her apart. _That ape’s killing them!_

* * *

_That crazy magi took the Boss!_

Zainab stood back to back with Hassan, trying to give her fellow thieves cover to get the hell away from whatever monsters the Kou had rained down on them. Her scarlet fog had dazed screeching furballs that might have been some kind of demonic monkey, she wasn’t getting close enough to look. Not when something twice the size of a man was trying to tear Hassan into pieces, ignoring the hiss of acid like it was warm rain-

_“Down!”_

Alibaba’s voice. She dropped anyway; whatever flea had bitten Cassim’s tender bits, Alibaba had _never_ steered them wrong in a fight-

The whole canal crashed over her in a wave, dark and drowning. Zainab bit her lip, desperately aching to breathe, stabbing her Fogblade down into the cobblestones to try and hold against that sucking pull....

Air. Fish-dank and tainted with smoke, but _air_.

Hassan and a bunch of others were choking behind her, coughing up water. The monkey-warrior-

Zainab blinked, wondering if there was still water in her eyes. No; that was Alibaba dancing on a tilted table, waving flames gaily at the princess as a veiled giant monkey screeched in the middle of the canal. “Missed me!”

Rubbing flash-blinded eyes, Kougyoku visibly steamed. “ _Stay still_ , you lousy merchant!”

“That’s no way to make a profit-” Alibaba cut himself off, paling.

The princess’ eyes gleamed, eager for the kill as she drew another water-serpent out of night and fog. “Oh, I’m not falling for that!”

Even with waterlogged ears, Zainab caught the patter of a dozen boots, the rattle of weapons; saw the gleam of oncoming torchlight as white-turbaned city guards ran for the scene of destruction.

And right into the middle of a mob of apes, drugged fog scoured off their fur by canal waters.

“Stop in the name of King - _auugh!_ ”

_Damn it!_ Zainab hauled herself to her feet and started hacking at sharp-clawed apes. Guards or not, they were still Balbadd. She’d be damned if she let Kou monsters tear them apart!

If she had a choice. Every bit of flesh she slashed seemed to flow back together. The monsters were laughing at her as they pounced, bearing her down in a flood of dank fur, fangs and claws wet with the blood of guards and thieves alike....

_“Amol Berka!”_

A wall of flames smashed into the screeching horde, tearing them off Zainab in a rush of searing heat. She choked on it, praying Jahan’s scaly under-tunics were as good as Alibaba said they were. Though better burned than being torn apart-

_“Vinea!”_

A tidal wave hammered down, fire blazing briefly in the heart of it; blue and gold and a burst of orange as Alibaba slammed into the inn wall hard enough to shatter it.

Silence, broken only by the princess’ panting.

_Alibaba’s down_. Zainab coughed, grimly determined to get back to her feet and get back-to-back with anyone of Balbadd still alive. Because the ape-monsters were down and stunned but not _dead_ , she could see singed fur healing from here. The head ape had just clawed his way out of the canal, that snarling tiger-swordsman was getting back up even if he was holding his ribs, and the two ridiculously strong redheads and Sinbad were still barely keeping that gray mountain of a thing contained-

Wait. Just two redheads.

_Where’s Sinbad?_

* * *

_Finally!_ Kougyoku touched down on wet stones as her opponent struggled to rise. “For a merchant, you can fight!”

Gold eyes blinked, trying to peer past wet hair. One hand gripped crumbled stone, lifting him an inch before he fell back against the cracked wall.

_It’s too bad_ , Kougyoku sighed, sword lifted. _I wanted this to last longer_.

But an enemy of the Empire was an enemy, and that was all there was to it.

_At least I can give him an honorable death, with all of my power!_ “Spirit of sorrow and separation, dwell within my body-”

“Time to _stop_.”

A strong hand closed on her raised wrist, shattering concentration in an instant. She should have used one of Kouha’s tricks to pull free, but for a moment Kougyoku could only gape, as Vinea’s water _melted away_. “Who are you?”

“Sinbad.” Fierce amber eyes met hers, long hair shimmering violet in the misty moonlight. “King of Sindria.”

... _Oh_.

* * *

Watching from the inn window, Ja’far stifled the urge to slam his head on the window ledge. The movement would attract too much attention. Even if Sinbad was being a loud and obvious distraction, charming _yet another_ princess who wanted to kill him.

_Blushing, stammering, blinking at him - yes, there comes the hand-yank away because “this is improper!”_ Ja’far tallied up. _Oh Solomon, the paperwork... I’m not sure if it’ll be better or worse that she’s already promised to Abhmad. The Empire can’t try to marry her off to two kings. I think_.

Though Sinbad wasn’t the real reason he wanted to concuss himself. No. That youngster was lying half-dead against the inn wall, being his own form of all too obvious distraction to keep Al-Thamen’s magi... away from _his_ magi.

_Alibaba is a Dungeon Capturer_. Ja’far indulged in some words that would have had Rurumu thump him over the head. Or then again, maybe not. She’d known how frustrating those bound to Djinn could be.

...No, she’d still have thumped him. And then likely thumped Alibaba. Because there had to be a better way of keeping Judar and the Kou Empire distracted from Aladdin than nearly getting himself killed. Ja’far planned to lecture- _tell_ Alibaba all about it. As soon as he figured out what it could be.

For now, Ja’far intended to hold his position here, no matter how bad things looked down in the courtyard. Judar wasn’t currently throwing lightning, and Sinbad was still talking; which meant they might get out of this with their lives - if not dignity - intact.

_Though I can’t imagine how_....

* * *

The night was blurry, and full of pain.

“It is unseemly for those of our status to quarrel in public, Princess.” A hint of amusement tickled Sinbad’s tone. “Besides. If anyone has first claims on this smuggler, Sindria does.”

Alibaba blinked, trying to make sense of Kougyoku’s blush and Sinbad’s relaxed stance. As if there weren’t a horde of monsters about to tear them all apart.

The Kou princess was getting even redder, singed ends of hair straying out of her formal hairstyle. “Y-you can’t possibly mean-!”

“Trade is Sindria’s life, and Merhdad has made all our lives a bit more dangerous,” Sinbad went on casually. “No, no; I’m afraid as Balbadd’s old allies, Sindria must insist on taking custody of this violent and destructive criminal.”

The night seemed to go red at the edges as Alibaba struggled to rise. _I’ll show you violent and destructive_ -

Morgiana’s hand, holding him down as easily as a butterfly. “Stay down,” she breathed. “Masrur says Sinbad has a plan.”

_What, like the plan to not get caught in Al-Thamen’s trap?_ Alibaba wanted to growl. Only the night kept spinning around him. Everything _hurt_.

“I’m here on the business of my kingdom,” Sinbad went on. “If you are as well, we can meet at a more appropriate time.” He waved a dismissive hand toward Alibaba. “Surely, you can trust me to keep him handy until the Kou Empire can present its claims in a form that’s less... damaging to innocent bystanders.”

“ _What_ innocent bystanders?” A robed Kou official in the oddest heavy makeup stood on the singed carpet, some sort of fixed fan in hand. “Princess, if the High Priest spoke truly, Sindria’s king has no Vessels. We can eliminate them all-”

“No!” Kougyoku said swiftly. “I mean, that wouldn’t be... proper, we haven’t declared war on Sindria....”

“Don’t tell Judar that,” the robed guy muttered.

_Judar. He was... near Cassim_. Alibaba blinked, searching for familiar thick dark hair. _Where’s Cassim?_

“We’re leaving!” Kougyoku declared, waving a hand that had monsters retreating, even with claws still dripping blood. “But not because you told me to!” She whirled on Sinbad, pointing a long-nailed finger. “You’re going to keep him in custody. And you’re going to treat him very well! Because the Kou Empire is going to show our allies what we do to our enemies, and no one’s going to say he didn’t get an honorable fight to die in!”

A rush of wind and cloth, and they were gone.

“That went well,” Sinbad started.

Masrur knocked a knuckle on the top of his head.

“Ow!” Sinbad rubbed at the sting, and blinked, following Masrur’s gaze down. “Oh. She really did a number on you, didn’t she? How have you had a Djinn this long and not learned how to use it?”

_Amon’s not an it!_ And he was going to get right off the ground and tell Sinbad that, the guy was supposed to be a hero, what was he thinking-?

Morgiana caught him before he fell.

“We need to get out of here before the guards come back,” Sinbad observed, somewhere in the foggy distance.

“Hmm,” Masrur agreed. “Or before someone tells the princess Sindria doesn’t arrest smugglers. We hire them.”

“Well, it does depend on the smuggler....”

* * *

_That Kou priest took Cassim_ , Zainab thought numbly, drinking a cup of the mulled wine the Sindrians had brought with them to warm everyone up. Warm was a good idea; the old lighthouse in the ghetto wasn’t half as cozy as the warren. And there was no way she and Hassan would bring injured gang members back to their primary hideout, not with Cassim in enemy hands. _He just... we warned him, Alibaba tried to get through to the boss that crazy magi just wants blood and... Cassim didn’t even fight. He wants power that much?_

Next to that, _Alibaba is a Dungeon Capturer_ barely made her shudder. No wonder he hadn’t told Cassim what his knife really was. If he’d had any clue how _hungry_ the boss was for the power to tear down the palace stone by stone and leave the nobles bloody shreds in the streets....

_He knew_ , Zainab thought, shivering despite the warmth cupped in her hands. _Alibaba knew how much Cassim hated him. Hated all the nobles. And I didn’t see it, because rags or silks, Alibaba’s the same never-say-die brat he always was. Who could hate that?_

She didn’t know whether to hug the kid for being just that brave, or hit him over the head for not telling someone he was swimming with a shark and knew it. Though right now “hit” had an edge. She wanted Cassim _back_.

_Who could he tell?_ Zainab thought, suddenly exhausted. _The merchants? They didn’t trust us anyway. Me or Hassan? Cassim would’ve cut his throat for trying to pull a power-play - or at least thrown him out and stopped working with the smugglers. And then we’d all have been cut bait whenever the Kou decided to hook us_.

Besides. From that dead look in gold eyes as Sinbad sat and scowled at him, Alibaba was beating himself up worse than the whole Fog Troupe could ever manage.

At least the kid still had Morgiana standing by him, red eyes narrowing just a little at Sinbad until Sindria’s king blinked, and eased up on the scowl. This was a big enough mess already.

“So.” Sinbad’s voice was stern, but not quite as edged as Zainab had half expected. “You captured Amon’s Dungeon.” He shrugged. “You might have said.”

“I didn’t....” Alibaba took a deep breath, and lifted his head. “Look. That mess with the desert hyacinth. Aladdin got it drunk with a whole _caravan_ of wine. Guess who got stuck with the bill?”

“Er.” Sinbad actually looked taken aback by that. “I suppose that would have been-”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Alibaba said impatiently. “It was the right thing to do. But I was out of options. It was die as a slave in debt, or maybe not die in Amon’s Dungeon. So - I went. Aladdin wanted Metal Vessels, so he went with me.”

“Aladdin wanted them?” Masrur’s usual frown seemed even deeper. Zainab hugged herself; the redhead didn’t feel dangerous to her, but she’d seen the way he threw around monsters like pillows.

“We went in. Lord Jamil came in after us, with a bunch of retainers,” Alibaba nodded at Morgiana. “It was terrifying and dangerous and there were plenty of bones _everywhere_. And monsters. Lots of them. If it hadn’t been for Aladdin, I wouldn’t be alive.”

Morgiana rested a hand on his shoulder. “If it weren’t for you, Aladdin wouldn’t be alive.”

“More like, if someone had actually taught Jamil Tran instead of letting him think what he knew was good enough,” Alibaba shrugged it off. “Lousy swordwork, too... anyway. So the dungeon was cleared. But Amon just wanted to talk to Aladdin. And then... then he said somebody was trying to close the gate between the worlds, and he tossed us back. We ended up scattered all over the place. I was in the foundations, Morgiana landed just outside Qishan, we had no idea where Aladdin was....” He took a deep breath. “And I had no clue I’d walked off with anything but treasure until I was in the middle of a desert on caravan and fires kept going out.”

Sinbad blinked at him. Zainab felt like blinking herself. “You had a Djinn.” Solomon, why was her voice so rusty? “And you didn’t _know?_ ”

“The caravan thought they were being haunted by an evil spirit.” Alibaba looked at her, a spark of humor flickering through the numbness. “For a while there, I wasn’t sure they were wrong. Amon’s... pushy, sometimes.”

“But the island whale,” she protested.

“Almost killed me.” Alibaba shrugged. “Judar wasn’t wrong. You’ve seen Cassim and me spar. He’s got more magoi than I do. A lot more.” He took a breath; almost a rueful laugh. “Probably the only reason I’m still alive. You don’t _fight_ someone that much stronger. You dodge, and hope they knock _themselves_ out.” Gold eyes glittered at Sinbad. “And don’t you dare call Amon an _it_. He tried to look after Aladdin before Judar slammed the gate shut. _Things_ don’t look after kids in over their head. People do.”

“In over his head?”

Zainab jumped, and saw a few other thieves turn pale. She’d dealt with quiet robbers. Even Alibaba could be sneaky when he tried. The Sindrian minister Ja’far was a _ghost_.

“Is Aladdin okay?” Alibaba pounced, apparently not at all fazed by dealing with a white-haired bundle of silent death.

_And he’s not_. Zainab looked at her cup, and wondered if the blond had had too much wine, or not enough. _But he faced down Cassim, too_.

“He’s still asleep,” Ja’far reported, gray gaze flickering to his king for just a moment. “How is he in over his head? Besides....”

Alibaba waved off whatever the white-haired menace didn’t say. “When I met him, he didn’t know that food might belong to somebody else. Or what they might do to him for eating it.”

Zainab’s thoughts screeched to a bewildered halt. That was... no way... come on, the little magician had to be at least ten, and slum kids were born knowing better than that!

Hassan snorted, helping one of the Troupe finish bandaging his arm. “No wonder you picked him up. Softie.”

“Hey!”

“He’s learned a lot since then,” Morgiana said quietly.

Alibaba sighed. “You found him locked up in a _bandit den_.”

“...True.”

“But she did find him,” Sinbad said firmly. “The rukh tends to look after people like Aladdin. So long as we keep him out of sight, he’ll be fine.”

“Cassim won’t be,” Hassan bit out, looking between Sinbad and Alibaba like he couldn’t decide who to punch first. “What’s that crazy magi going to do with the Boss?”

“Wish I knew.” Alibaba kept his gaze focused on the Sindrian king. “You know Judar-”

“ _Know_ is a bit flexible,” Sinbad demurred, with an amused wave of his hand. “Dodged his lightning bolts a few times....”

“-What’s he going to do with my brother?”

Amber eyes narrowed, calculating; flared back into what even Zainab would admit was a damn good imitation of innocent amusement. “Which one? Last I checked... you have three.”

_Oh hell_. Zainab’s guts turned to ice. _He knows_.

Sinbad knew, and Alibaba knew he knew. She could see it in how the blond paled, trying not to freeze. The way Alibaba _always_ choked, when whatever crazy hiccup in his head that made him too honest to steal ran headlong into the part of him that loved them all enough to jump straight into a fire.

And king or not, Sinbad was a boss, with a boss’ eye for weak points. She could almost see him picking his next move-

_Hell no. I know Alibaba; I don’t know you_. “Leave him alone.”

Alibaba started. Hassan gaped at her. “Zainab!”

“That crazy magi knows _you_ ,” Zainab flung at Sinbad, deliberately ignoring redheaded and snow-haired death by his sides. “You’re the reason he’s here. So it’s _your_ fault he grabbed the Boss. If that psycho knew about Alibaba’s other brothers - that princess wouldn’t have let him get away. She would have taken him, over your dead bodies.” _Sorry, kid_ , Zainab thought, hearing the whispers as those few in the Fog Troupe who didn’t know finally got clued in on who Merhdad really was. _We both know it’s true. Kou gets their hands on you, you’re a hostage._

Masrur folded his arms. “Not easily.”

Some of the color had come back to Alibaba’s face. “But if they don’t want to start a war with the Seven Seas Alliance - you’re not ready to fight them, either,” he concluded. “So what are you planning?”

A masterful upward flick of violet brows. “What are we planning? Well-”

“Not we. You. Cassim’s Fog Troupe business.” Alibaba got the words out like they hurt him. “I’ll help, but-”

“You’re leading us,” Zainab snapped. “I don’t care if the Boss won’t like it. We need him back, in one piece - and you’re the one who can make it happen. The Boss can scream and throw things at us _later_. If he had his head on straight he’d know we need a plan. And your plans work.”

Alibaba swallowed. “Not always.”

“Then you _make_ this one work.” She stalked across the room to thump his shoulder, picking the one that didn’t have a bruise. “Go check on your friend. And get those wounds clean. We’ve got _questions_ for the guy who knows the magi.”

Alibaba blinked, straightening as Morgiana braced him; apparently getting his head back together enough to realize Zainab wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Glanced at Sinbad, obviously worried. Which, fair enough; the guy was a king and probably not used to rough handling, while Alibaba knew the Fog Troupe well enough to know there was asking, and then there was _asking,_ with sharp pointy things-

But then gold eyes looked at the space where Cassim should have been, right behind her and Hassan. Misted up, as he took one shuddering breath.

She’d never seen someone in tears look so _scary_ before.

“Everything you know about Judar, the Kou princess, and those dungeon creatures.” Alibaba’s voice was quiet. Not shaking, even as salt water dripped down his cheeks. Even when he made it to the doorway, and had to grab it a moment as bruised muscles spasmed. “We need it.”

Morgiana gave Zainab a respectful nod, and followed her friend out.

Zainab shifted her head side to side, trying to ease some of the ache from fear-tight muscles. “We can do this easy or hard. Easy is, we know what you’re looking for. You come through, we’ve got reasons to help you find them.”

“Interesting proposal.” Sinbad smiled, charming as a lamia in the desert.

Zainab didn’t smile back. “And then there’s hard.”

Hassan cracked his knuckles.

Masrur grinned.

* * *

Ja’far leaned back against the wall of the lighthouse stairwell as the ungodly racket of fists and swears went on, sipping a mug of mulled ginger-spiced wine and at peace with the world. After all, Aladdin was still potentially in danger from Al-Thamen. They all were. It only made sense to leave someone on watch.

And taking his ease out here had nothing to do with wanting to pay Sinbad back for the headache of running into Judar, _again_ , when Alibaba had thoroughly warned his feckless king that they were already looking for him.

Of course not.

...Ah, this _was_ a good wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, if they were actually going to do serious damage to Sinbad, or the idiot king stopped _provoking_ them, yes, Ja’far and Masrur would be right there swinging. As it stands, though... canon, what we see of the Fog Troupe indicates they are not dumb. Especially Cassim’s lieutenants. Meaning Sinbad was trying to get clever with a whole bunch of smart, desperate people. (As he so, so often does in canon.)
> 
> And that’s just asking for it. 
> 
> Also, from the bits we have of canon, Zainab did know Alibaba growing up, if not as well as Cassim did. Meaning she probably has a decent idea of when Alibaba tends to choke, if not all the reasons why. And she’d definitely know something Sinbad doesn’t, at this point: _never back Alibaba into a corner._
> 
> Seriously, the results are just not pretty. 
> 
> Instead, give him a defined problem, and say, “help”. Then watch the sparkly fireworks....


	11. Skating on Technicalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judar meets Cassim. 
> 
> ...Yeah, that goes about as well as you'd expect. 
> 
> Meanwhile everyone else tries to pick up the pieces. Including some wreckage left from years ago. 
> 
> (Sinbad's trying not to curse Rashid right now. Really.)

Alibaba hadn’t picked up Aladdin because he felt sorry for the kid, Cassim decided, as Judar dodged yet another thrown knife with a smirk and a _tsk_ about his aim. Alibaba had picked up the kid because... apples, trees. Birds, feathers. Iron, lodestone. Like pulled to like, and magicians were absolutely _insane_.

And that didn’t even consider the knives he’d pulled out of palace walls and bedposts and fluffy pillows when Judar hadn’t bothered to dodge. Because for the first few minutes after Cassim had woken up to this red-silk weirdness, the magi had just _stood_ there, grinning, while a shell of glimmering light bounced every last blade away.

He _wanted_ to try the Fogblade on the smirking magician. But that black blade was now in pieces on a table, with a bunch of messy scribbled notes around it that included way too many frowny-faces for his peace of mind. Not to mention gems like _nyah, pfui_ , and _linked to at least a couple other things, wonder if they’ll catch on fire if I melt this down_....

If the other Fogblades caught on fire and hurt his Troupe, he would _slaughter_ Judar.

...If he could ever catch him.

_They’re fine,_ Cassim told himself, catching his breath. _They’ve got to be fine. The crazy’s not acting like he expects me to take him apart, and he can’t be_ that _crazy. And I don’t care how strong the Kou warriors were, Zainab’s smart and Hassan’s determined. And Alibaba was there. He knows what I’d do if he let my people get hurt. The Troupe has to be fine_.

“Eh, not bad.” Judar rubbed his chin, sitting in midair as Cassim glared at him. “You’re not up to taking on her big brothers yet, but - not bad. She might like you.”

“The Kou Empire’s trying to take over my city, and you think I care if one of their damn princesses _likes_ me?” Cassim snarled.

“You should.” Red eyes blinked at him, slow and serious. “There’s taking over, and then there’s _taking over_. You want Balbadd to end up a place like Kouha’s rag-tag outcasts, crazy and whispered about but pretty much left alone so long as they follow royal blood? Or do you want it to be Prince Koumei’s personal domain, harnessed so tight into the Kou master plan it can’t even breathe? That’d kill your Fog Troupe quicker than swords. Or slower. And a lot more painful.”

“Koumei?” Cassim took a hissing breath. “I thought we were up against General Kouen.”

“Eh, he gets the credit,” Judar waved a hand. “General of the armies, prince, master of three Djinns.”

_Three?_ Cassim felt chilled. _Alibaba said we were screwed. I hate it when he’s right._

“But Koumei....” Judar rested his chin on his fists, bobbing up and down a little. “Koumei has the plan.” Red eyes narrowed. “I don’t like the plan. After all, if it works, there won’t be any war anymore. And then how will I get my fun?”

Cassim snorted, loosening his shoulders in case he saw a chance for another throw. “No war? Keep dreaming. People’ll always fight about _something_.”

“Yes they do... if they know there’s something to fight for.” A silken shrug. “Kind of hard to do that if you can’t imagine anything better. So - kill the imagination. Kill anything that hints there might be another way. Another leader. Another insane genius plan to tackle problems no one’s even dreamed up yet.” Judar lowered his hands, watching Cassim. “I don’t know if Kouha’s figured it out yet, but that’ll mean killing off his pet magicians, too. Because magic’s all about finding new ways to do wild and crazy stuff. Oh, Koumei wouldn’t dare kill a magi... but without other magicians, who am I going to fight?” Red eyes blinked. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

_Good question_. “I was wondering if some nut dipped... Merhdad in ink and got him on a mean drunk.” Cassim folded his arms, looking the floating crazy up and down. “Put in _war_ for _hope_ , and you’ve got him down.”

“Eww. You’d better be wrong about that. The people I work with... they do _nasty_ things to optimists.” Judar scowled at him. “So who _did_ pick him as a king? Couldn’t be the High Priestess; she doesn’t help anybody but Reim. That crazy wanderer Yunan, maybe... though if he was poking around in the Oasis Cities, he would have almost had to come through Balbadd first, and if he did, he should have seen _you_.” The magi flipped his braid back, thick baubles of hair drifting as if they weighed no more than cotton lint. “Though maybe it’s my luck he didn’t - you’d be _much_ better for the hag than that grease spot Abhmad.”

Which deserved one of Cassim’s better stares, the one that made small street urchins eep and sent city guards running in terror. Because Alibaba wasn’t here, which meant he could admit... well, things he wouldn’t say to the blond idiot. Ever. “I knew you were crazy, but that’s up there with taking a boat out into a typhoon and dancing in the crow’s nest. In bronze armor. Are you nuts? I don’t know anything about running a country!”

“Running a....” Judar stared at him blankly, then cackled. “Oh, man! Why do the stories always get that wrong? You think magi pick kings to sit up on some gilded throne and make boring good decisions in the name of peace and justice? If I ever catch the guy who got _that_ story started, I’ll fry him. Starting from the toes up.” He dropped his legs to stand in midair, fell the rest of the way to the floor with a quiet, barefoot _thump_. “Hey, the palace staff’s been trying to bribe us into not slaughtering anybody with cool drinks. The tea sucks, but the cider’s not bad. You want?”

Cassim blinked, and shook his head. Okay, why not? It might bring the crazy in stabbing range. “So... what do you pick kings for?”

Judar’s grin was all teeth as he poured two generous mugs of amber liquid, inviting Cassim to pick whichever one he thought wasn’t poisoned. _“Chaos.”_

Cassim blinked again. Grabbed a mug, and took a healthy swig. Because that almost made _sense_. Alibaba on Balbadd’s throne? Nothing would change, not where it mattered. The slums were bad under Abhmad, but they hadn’t exactly been good under Rashid. No matter how Alibaba would try, he’d never fix that.

Alibaba with magical fire and a little desperation? Balbadd _had_ changed. Trade had surged back. People were alive who would have starved, or died without medicine, or just given up because there was nothing out there to hope for. His own Fog Troupe was - well, maybe not rolling in wealth. But thriving.

Still. The whole idea was crazy. “You pick kings to be troublemakers?” Cassim said skeptically.

“You wouldn’t believe how much trouble the Kou family’s caused,” Judar smirked. “Come on, think about it. A Djinn is _power!_ That’s not something you drop on nice meek nobles who just wants to run their estates and hold law courts every week. You want someone who’ll _use_ that power. And that means finding someone who knots up the flow of fate. Merhdad, you, that idiot Sinbad - all of you head right for the nearest trouble to kick its ass. You change things. It’s what you _are_.” A jingling shrug. “Good, bad - who cares? Kings shake up the whole world. _That’s_ what magi are supposed to do.” Teeth gleamed. “I’d rather have bad. They’re more fun. Sinbad’s so _boring_ when he’s trying to behave.”

And just when he thought the crazy was making sense, Judar slipped sideways again. “You sound like you think royal blood doesn’t matter,” Cassim said darkly.

Judar almost spit out his cider. “Is _that_ what’s got you so twisted up? Maybe Scheherazade sticks to picking kings out of Reim’s royals. She likes being tame. And _dumb_. You get too many nobles in one place too long, pretty soon they think royals shouldn’t marry anyone else. And when that happens - have you _seen_ Abhmad? I could cry.” He _tsk_ ed. “The Rens, now - they’re young blood. Three generations, not long enough to get all _icky_. Kougyoku’s even stronger than that, because... well. You look like the kind of guy who knows a job’s a job, right?”

That glow in red eyes said Cassim had damn well _better_ know that. Which he did, and it stung that anyone had ever thought otherwise. “Honest work’s still work,” Cassim said shortly. “The best woman I ever knew was a harlot.” If only Anis had been his mother, too....

The crazy seemed to fade out of the magi’s eyes, leaving an oddly quiet surprise behind. “Yeah. Maybe you’ll do.”

“Do for what?” Cassim gritted out. “Why am I _here?_ ” Though one reason was perfectly clear; Judar had wanted to talk to him, without annoying little interruptions from people trying to rescue him. The Fog Troupe could get a lot of places, but back inside the royal palace? Tricky.

_Alibaba’s merchants think the Kou magicians are using mind-control on people_....

“That.” Judar pointed to the disassembled Fogblade. “Somebody set that up to leech onto you, and then when the time was right... there’s some _nasty_ commands in the rukh set to go off if that thing stabs a king.” He clapped his hands together, brushing off dust. “Merhdad, or Sinbad, or you. Somebody had one of you targeted. Or all of you. Maybe Merhdad’s a weak kitten of a king, but I like Sinbad, and I think I could like you. So I want to know who sold you that thing, because they tried to _break_ one of my toys. And that’s just bad manners.” An elaborate shrug. “I like the hag, too - though don’t you ever tell her that. She’d get all weepy and clingy and _ugh_. And I hate that.” Red eyes narrowed, glittering with the kind of not-sure-what-to-do fury Cassim knew all too well. “She’s got all kinds of hopes for marrying somebody who might be like Sinbad, and Abhmad is. Not. Sinbad.”

Cassim shook his head, wondering if the cider had more alcohol than it tasted like. Because Judar was starting to make sense, in a sideways shake-logic-silly fashion. Zainab had said their weapons were too cheap for such powerful magic.

_She said I could trust Alibaba, too. And how did that work out? The bastard has a Djinn!_

But if the magi’s hints meant what Cassim was beginning to think they did.... “The princess... needs to marry a king. Of Balbadd.”

“That’s the plan,” Judar scowled.

This was crazy. But the whole night had been crazy. “But he doesn’t have to be a _royal_ king.”

“Well....” Judar laced his fingers together, stretched his arms over his head. “Technically, by all those silly treaties... she just has to marry the next king of Balbadd. So who’d be king if something awful happened to Rashid’s two sons?”

* * *

Half the fun of being a magi, Judar thought, was watching the rukh swirl around people who thought they had a perfect poker face.

_There’s something about Rashid’s heirs he knows, that I don’t. Interesting_.

Light and dark, the rukh around Cassim had really fluttered when Judar had said _two_ sons. Now why would-?

Judar hid his sudden grin, even if he wanted to jump up and down in glee. _There’s another heir. Somewhere. And Cassim knows him!_

On the one hand, that could really put a damper on his quick plan to have Rashid’s sons meet fatal accidents, help Cassim through a Dungeon, and present him to the hag gift-wrapped in a red wedding outfit. On the other hand... the fact that no one official had mentioned a third heir meant there had to be something complicated going on.

And complications meant lovely chaos. Always.

But Cassim had the same sort of stubborn look as Kouen on a save-the-world-by-conquering-it kick, and he didn’t want to screw up what little trust his alley prince had in a crazy magi. So... asking Cassim for details, bad idea.

On the other hand, if there _was_ a third heir, someone among Balbadd’s nobles had to know about it. And joy, he had a whole palace full of them to terrorize.

Judar smiled, enjoying the thrill of the hunt. _I know exactly where to start_.

* * *

“Th-The Kou delegation attacked city guards?” Sabhmad’s knuckles were white as he gripped the sleeves of his robe, trying not to shake in his chair.

General Barkakk stood formally in his prince’s chambers, wishing he knew anything that would help. Sabhmad tried; he wasn’t sure anyone besides his own guardsmen knew how much the prince _did_ try to master his constant fear of dealing with people. But there was only so much the prince’s courage could do against a situation that had even a general swallowing hard. “I don’t think we’ll be able to prove it,” he said plainly. “If they were hunting Merhdad, or the Fog Troupe, it’d be all too easy for them to claim our guardsmen simply... got in the way.”

“Abhmad would believe it.” Fingers clenched and unclenched. “But the smugglers... and the thieves....”

“Their fire magic is probably the only reason our guards survived,” Barkakk acknowledged. “I don’t know if they were fighting the Kou, though it’s likely, or just fighting against the monsters. But they did fight.” He shook his head. “And given the reports we have from the Traveler’s Rest - King Sinbad fought with them.” And now Sinbad was gone, and his two not-so-discreet Generals with him; though Barkakk thought he had an idea how to track them all down. Dock-master Shahidi had a much more protective attitude toward his own men than he would have ever expected looking at the stout shakedown artist. He’d know where to find Merhdad - or know who _would_ know.

“But they’re _criminals_.” Sabhmad swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to _do_. I wish - I wish Father were here.”

_So do I_. Which wasn’t entirely fair to Sabhmad, Barkakk knew. But nothing about this was fair. “What do you think he’d do, if he were here, my lord?”

“S-something brave. And clever.” Sabhmad shook his head. “But I... can’t....”

Sabhmad, go out into the streets as Rashid would have, and lead his people to victory by guile and flat-out brazen nerve? No. He’d never be able to do that, any more than Abhmad could handle a sword.

_But he is my prince, and he’s trying_ , Barkakk told himself. “So you can’t, my lord. But even King Rashid didn’t do everything himself. What would you _order_ done?”

Dark eyes blinked, a little color coming back into that drawn face. Sabhmad took a deep breath, gaze going distant as he stopped to think. “We... need to do what’s best for Balbadd. Sinbad was Father’s ally. If he thinks these people might be honorable enough to deal with, then maybe we can do more than just-”

There was a frantic knocking at the outer door.

_And the guards said nothing_.... Barkakk reached for his sword.

“Don’t bother,” said a far-too-cheerful voice, “I’ll just let myself in.”

The Kou high priest. Barkakk kept his hand near his hilt as the braided menace stalked into Sabhmad’s chambers as if he had every right to be here.

_And if Kou has their way, he will_.

“Burning midnight oil?” Judar cocked his head, curious. “Not that it’ll do you much good, but a pity your king isn’t as diligent.”

Sabhmad was white. Barkakk gritted his teeth, prepared to take the consequences of bodily throwing the crazy priest out, this wasn’t Kou land yet-

“Eh, you’re not even fun to scare.” Judar sounded disappointed as he stared down Sabhmad. “Too easy.” He heaved a dramatic sigh, and shrugged. “So! I heard a little rumor that Rashid had _more_ than two heirs. Imagine that. All these negotiations, all these agreements... and there’s someone we’re missing.” Red eyes looked between them, almost mild. “So who is he, and why haven’t we heard about Rashid getting frisky before?”

Sabhmad gulped.

Barkakk tried not to wince. _Just stay quiet, my lord, we’ll think of something_ -

“T-The arrangements are with the king of Balbadd,” Sabhmad got out. “I know. I r-read them. It doesn’t matter who the king is, so why do you care?”

Judar grinned.

Barkakk reached for a warrior’s stillness, that kind of grin meant blood _everywhere_ -

“So there is still some fight in Balbadd. That’s _interesting_.” Judar eyed Sabhmad long moments more, until the royal couldn’t help shivering.

Then lifted his gaze, as if he’d seen what he wanted, and settled it on Barkakk. “So there’s a third prince. An acknowledged heir, or you two wouldn’t be so keen on shielding him.” A silver wand appeared in his hand like magic, fingers flipping it idly around. “And if he’s acknowledged... then I can probably get everything I want out of the palace staff. Even if it might _take me a while_.”

The threat in that chilled Barkakk to the bone. Sabhmad was pale as parchment.

But fingernails bit into embroidered silk, and the second prince swallowed. “If you hurt the staff, you’ll damage your standing to perform the wedding. Blood guilt on a priest, days before a holy union? The people would never stand for it.”

A moment’s silence. Barkakk held his breath.

“Too bad you’re not the princess’ intended,” Judar said sourly. “There’s a little spine in there after all.” He shrugged. “But you know I’m right. He was here, now he’s not - at least not so that Abhmad’s talking about him. That means something got messy. And _that_ means someone will talk, just to spread the juicy gossip to ears that haven’t heard it yet. Who do you want the princess to hear this from?”

_He’s right, blast it_ , Barkakk thought bitterly. _The truth is bad enough, before someone paints it blacker_. “Rashid had a third son,” he said grudgingly. “The boy’s mother vanished with him after he was born. It took years to find him. Rashid brought him in, we trained him - and three years ago the Fog Troupe attacked the palace. Abhmad blamed his brother’s... low connections. The youngster had enough sense to make himself scarce before King Abhmad could take his head. And that’s all we know.”

“All you know.” Judar smirked. “Right. How did you even know he was Rashid’s?”

“Abhmad says that, too,” Sabhmad said quietly. “But if you knew our father... you couldn’t even ask.”

“Huh. And I thought trade was too boring to mess with Balbadd.” The priest’s eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “So... this brother of yours have a name?”

Barkakk saw Sabhmad stiffen, and held back a sigh. The name wasn’t common, true, but Judar would get it out of the staff one way or another. “Alibaba. And none of us have seen him in three years. We have no idea if he’s even alive.”

_And if he is - if the young prince is still using that name in public, I’m a Sindrian macaw_.

“But you hope he is,” Judar mused. “You’re up against magic, you know. There’s nothing a bunch of idiots... and merchants... and thieves, can do to help you now.”

_What?_ Barkakk kept his eyes from widening with an effort of will. _King Sinbad was with Merhdad, and the Fog Troupe- they_ are _working together._

“Though if you thought you could, that would make things _really_ fun.” Judar grinned at Sabhmad, and gave him a jaunty wave as he turned to walk out. “Stay alive, ‘kay? At least until the wedding.”

* * *

Alibaba rubbed his eyes against the thin light of dawn, wishing he could crawl right back into bed and not come out until all the worried faces staring at him went away. The Kou princess, Al-Thamen’s magi, Cassim missing, Aladdin still out cold....

_One step at a time_ , Alibaba reminded himself, looking around at everyone gathered on the bottom floor of the lighthouse lair. Zainab and Hassan, of course; Cassim’s lieutenants were bound and determined to make it clear to their gang that Alibaba was _not_ taking over. He was there to get Cassim back, and the Fog Troupe could wreak their own havoc on the magi responsible afterward.

_Well, they can try_ , Alibaba reflected, eyeing Sindria’s slightly battered king and his two amused Generals. For the moment Sinbad, Masrur, and Ja’far were their experts on magic. In particular, the annoying fact that a strong magician had an almost impenetrable magical shield by _pure reflex_. Meaning the only thing that’d stand a chance of taking down Judar permanently was either a Fanalis going all-out or a Magic Tool. And given Judar was a magi, with all the world’s magoi to draw on-

_I may be the only one who can cut him. We_ have _to find Sinbad’s Metal Vessels_.

Some of the Fog Troupe were working on just that, while other wounded they’d saved last night watched over Aladdin. It didn’t help that apparently Cassim had located the thieves himself. Zainab and Hassan had to send people to each of the fences they thought Cassim would have checked, and that was taking _time_.

_Too much time. There’s too much riding on this, I can’t do this alone_....

But he wasn’t alone. Aladdin was risking his life so he wouldn’t be; so Amon and all the Djinn would have their own choices. Jahan was beside him, the voice of the merchants who now knew Kou was onto them.

_Though they don’t know everything. Not yet. Or Kougyoku would have drowned me then and there_.

Most comforting of all, Morgiana was a warmth by his shoulder; willing to fight even though Balbadd wasn’t her home, her people. Because she was a friend.

_I just hope Masrur’s ears are as good as hers_ , Alibaba thought soberly. _It’s too easy for one person to get distracted. If the Kou came looking for us now, we’d be in deep, deep trouble_.

But there was no help for it. They had to plan, and with what they were up against if they didn’t use everyone’s knowledge to the fullest they were all going to _die_ -

Jahan cleared his throat. “So... technically you’re under Sindrian house arrest?”

Sometimes he hated being blond. He could feel the blush heat his cheeks, and _everyone_ could see it.

“It does make things a little tricky if we have to bring in the rest of the Alliance,” Sinbad mused. “Or, well, it would. If Kou’s warriors hadn’t attacked us first. Clumsy of them.” He rubbed near a bruise, blinking woefully at Hassan. “Of course, someone else attacked us second-”

“You asked for that.” Ja’far’s voice was level, dry, and had no sympathy whatsoever. “If someone had stolen Vittel fifteen years ago and you pulled ‘I don’t know much’, I’d have _filleted_ you.”

Masrur said nothing, but calmly inclined his head.

Sinbad heaved the sigh of the ultimately put-upon. “We really _don’t_ know much about Judar,” he admitted. “Or magi; Yunan never hangs around longer than it takes than to say something cryptic and vanish. We know his Borg will throw off any weapon that’s not magical. We know he can spellcast as long as he likes without running out of energy. He probably has a limit, somewhere, but he’s never hung around long enough for us to reach it. Until last night, we weren’t even sure he was really working with the Kou Empire. A whole nest of dark magicians are tightly tangled in their veins, but so far as we know, the Kou don’t _know_ that.”

“But he is, so he’s probably at the palace with the rest of their delegation.” Alibaba took a deep breath. “And so is Cassim.”

Hassan tensed, swearing; Zainab put a hand on his arm before he could try to pulverize anyone. “We don’t know that.”

“Right. That’s why I think he’s there.” Alibaba ran a hand through his hair, absently realizing his hat had been lost somewhere between Vinea’s wave and here. Drat. He could almost feel Morgiana’s eager twitch, as she contemplated pouncing that betraying lock of hair. “Look, we know Cassim. If he could get loose on his own, nothing would keep him away from the Troupe. So he _can’t_.”

Hassan scowled, but subsided as Zainab kept a grip on him. “Go on,” she said, voice hard.

“If he can’t get loose, someone’s got to be holding him,” Alibaba obliged. “He’s not exactly _unknown_. If he were locked up anywhere normal in Balbadd, either he’d get free or we’d hear about it.”

“So he has to be somewhere we don’t have ears listening.” Hassan scowled harder.

Alibaba couldn’t blame him; the Fog Troupe had invested a lot of time and money into making sure they had people to talk to across the city. It was half the reason they’d stayed free this long. “More than that. They took Cassim _and his Fogblade_. So they can handle magic. That’s got to be either someone else in the Kou party, or Judar still has him. My money’s on Judar.” He shivered.

Warm fingers touched his shoulder. “Magi can bleed,” Morgiana said quietly. _And if it bleeds,_ that scarlet gaze said, _I can kill it_.

Alibaba gave her a shaky smile, and wished he had half that confidence. It had to be nice, knowing a lot of your problems really _could_ be solved by hitting them hard enough.

“If Judar took Cassim, he wants your leader alive.” Sinbad gave Zainab and Hassan a concerned look. “I know it’s not much, but Judar’s never tried any mind-manipulating spells on me. He’s tried to talk me into a number of ill-advised things, but he’s never tampered with my thoughts.”

Zainab and Hassan traded a dark glance.

“Ah. Not as good news as I thought, then,” Sinbad concluded. Gave Alibaba a long look, then glanced over the rest of the room. “If we’re going to rescue your leader, we’re going to be facing a magi. We’ll need a Djinn’s power. That won’t go well if Cassim attacks someone trying to rescue him. Does anyone have any idea why he carries such a grudge against his own kin?”

Hassan grimaced. And Jahan... nodded. Thoughtfully.

Zainab blinked, then smoothed out her expression, like she’d rather strangle the both of them than let this go any farther.

Alibaba shook his head, and glanced at Morgiana. Because his heart was hurting like someone had stuck a knife in, and of all the people in here she didn’t have a stake in this, so maybe she could give him just one clue _why?_

She met his pleading look with her own worried frown, and nodded. Gazed up at Hassan, eyes beautiful and deadly as a snow leopard. “Talk.”

The one-eyed lieutenant sighed. “ _Miriam_ was Cassim’s sister, little hellion. Alibaba Saluja... he’s King Rashid’s son.”

He couldn’t seem to get enough to breathe. “That? That’s it?” Alibaba said in disbelief. “Something I didn’t even know about until the king came looking, my mother never said - we were together! We were family!”

“And then you were gone,” Hassan said; hard, but not cruel. “Street’s like that. You remember that if you remember anything. You were gone, and then you were a noble - and then you were just gone. And even when you came back....” For once, he hesitated, then seemed to set doubt aside with a shrug in the face of Morgiana’s determined gaze. “You were the merchants’ face, like Cassim was the street’s. You walk like them, talk like them - hell, you even fight like a prince. You didn’t see that?”

_No, I didn’t see that_ , Alibaba thought, fighting the urge to go hide under the nearest rock, forget about Balbadd. _I didn’t see it at all, I’m blind, I’m so stupid-!_

“Ease up,” Jahan said, almost too mildly. “When a man’s fighting the waves to survive, he doesn’t think about which hand he’s using to hold on. Or where he learned his knots from. If he makes it through the blow... then there’s time to piece together whose teachings served him best.”

It almost helped. But he’d hurt Cassim, he’d hurt the man who’d been his brother, no matter who their fathers were, and there wasn’t anything he could do to fix that. And that was awful enough, but if he’d failed Cassim that badly, how could anyone trust any of his plans to save Balbadd?

_Morgiana does. Aladdin does_.

Which just went to show they didn’t know him very well yet. But for them, for Cassim - he had to try.

“It doesn’t matter.” Alibaba swallowed. Damn it, he hadn’t meant for that to have a hint of a wail. “If he’s with Judar then we need to get into the palace. And we need to be able to get in even past people with magic. So,” he glanced at the Fog Troupe lieutenants, “we need to keep looking for Sinbad’s Metal Vessels. But while we’re doing that,” he looked at Jahan, and the Sindrians, “we need to hit Kou’s power outside the palace. We need to take down the Banker.”

Ja’far nodded; Sinbad and Masrur both looked intrigued. But Zainab and Hassan-

“You said that before.” Hassan’s eye glittered. “When the Boss was still okay.”

_Yeah. They want to be sharpening something right now,_ Alibaba thought. _Preferably on my bones_. “And I said that because _we need leverage_. Now more than ever.” He didn’t want to stare them down. But if it meant saving Cassim, he’d face the whole Fog Troupe single-handed. “The Kou have enough magic to swat us. _If_ we could break into the palace, _if_ we could get to Cassim without getting caught, we’d be fighting the Kou and their monsters _and the palace guards_.” He shook his head. “That’s too many for us.”

Cassim’s lieutenants stared back, unconvinced. And now Masrur raised a brow.

_Great. What else can go wrong?_ “I know Fanalis are strong, but Sindria’s still supposed to be Balbadd’s ally,” Alibaba stated. “If you attack King Abhmad’s guards before they attack your king, there’s going to be hell to pay. We’re trying not to start a war. So we need to get the guards to _stand down_. And that’s why we need to hit the Banker. Right now, Kou’s using him to tear Balbadd apart with money. If we have him - or his contracts - then _we_ have his leverage.” Whether or not that’d be enough to get Abhmad to back off, though... his oldest brother had an ego, and given that mess with the pirates ordered to attack _Balbadd’s own ships_ , Alibaba feared common sense had left the building-

“Yes we do,” Sinbad mused, a devilish light playing in amber eyes. “After all, I doubt the terms say any funds to pay off the loans _have_ to come from Balbadd.”

Erk. For a moment Alibaba felt his brain freeze up, because Sindria having a controlling interest in Balbadd _had_ to be better than the Kou Empire taking over-

_But I won’t be able to buy him off by playing with the Fan_ , Alibaba knew. _And he knows it, and I know it_.

Meaning once Sindria had their hands on Balbadd’s rights, it’d be a lot harder to get them back. In the long run.

_Give Sinbad an inch, he’ll take a mile_ , King Rashid had said years ago. _Never dice with him with anything you can’t afford to lose_.

Damn it. Damn it to hell. If he just had time to think-!

_Kou’s going to destroy us. Sindria probably won’t_. Alibaba winced. _So - everything’s still up in the air. If I can, buy back the rights myself. And hope to heck Sindria doesn’t publically add up the numbers on how much Fan we should have been able to get these past months. If I can’t... it’s an option. Even King Rashid would say it’s better than Kou wiping us out._

_...I hope_.

It was scarily interesting, seeing how Ja’far’s face _wasn’t_ reacting to Sinbad’s proposal. As if his king floating the idea of taking over half a country by way of money was nothing to worry about. At all.

_It’s a fake_ , Alibaba thought with a shock. _He’s really,_ really _worried. And if Ja’far’s worried about it - I’m not wrong. Sinbad would grab Balbadd, if he could. Not because he meant any harm. Just because he_ could.

_Oh great. How do I keep that from going wrong on top of everything else?_

Because Ja’far had been - well, scary. But helpful. He’d kept Aladdin safe, even when that whole mess with Judar and the monsters had raged the worst. Which meant Alibaba owed it to him to try and keep Sinbad from getting into even worse trouble.

_And it’d be trouble, no two ways about it. We’re Balbadd, and we don’t knuckle under to anybody_.

“As for not starting a war....” Sinbad folded his arms. “They sent Princess Kougyoku, a Metal Vessel User. I know you got hit hard last night, things may be a bit fuzzy, but she wants to publically defeat you in the name of the Empire and she won’t take _I don’t want to fight_ for an answer. And they sent Judar. A magi who absolutely loves battles. The bloodier, the better.” He spread one hand. “Avoiding a war may not be an option.”

_Damn it! We can’t win a war, how can things possibly get any worse_ -

Red eyes blinked up at Alibaba; confident as an alley-cat he’d known years ago, watching an oblivious pigeon peck the breadcrumbs a slum kid had deliberately thrown down. _We’ve got this_.

So he was going to look stupid. Fine. Alibaba pressed his knuckles into his forehead anyway, using the pressure to blot out the blaze of _Sinbad, king of Sindria_ , and try to think. There was something... something King Rashid had said in one of the trade lessons, if a deal was going to go wrong and there was nothing you could see to salvage it-

_“If everything’s going to hell anyway, sometimes the best thing you can do is make it_ worse. _”_

Because a problem for you might not be solvable. It might kill you. And no one would care. But if you could make it an obvious problem for _everybody_....

“Right,” Alibaba breathed, lifting his head. “So... if we can’t avoid it, we don’t.”

“Eh?” A purple brow went up, curious. “I thought a war was what you didn’t want?”

Hassan was gaping at him. Zainab peered at him, like he was a clock gone wrong and she was about to take a hammer to the workings to find out why.

Alibaba wasn’t going to glance at Jahan. He could feel the confusion all the way across the room. Worse, the older man’s confidence that Alibaba actually had a plan, instead of inspired guesses. Eep.

“It’s simple,” Alibaba said, straightening as if he were just as confident as Cassim about to shake down a caravan pickpocket. “They’re taking over using money, sure. That’s the carrot. The stick is, do what we want, or we go to war. They’re _trying_ to start a fight, so we never get a chance to pay up. So we need to make it obvious that’s what they’re doing. We need to show every country who deals with the Kou Empire that _they started it_. That if you deal with the Kou, you’ll never get a fair shake; they’ll stab you down to hold up your end of the bargain and never hold up theirs. And that they never intended to keep the deal, even from the start.”

_Right. Great idea. How am I going to pull it off?_

He didn’t know. Yet. Though if Princess Kougyoku did want an official rematch to very officially kill him in - well, that was a chance to get things in front of a lot of eyes and ears. If he figured out a way to get people to let him talk before she started trying to kill him.

_One step at a time_. “So we need information on what they’re doing,” Alibaba went on. “ _Exactly_ what they’re doing. It’s got to be solid, and it’s got to be true, or the minute other countries do their own checking they won’t believe anything we say. We need to hang the Kou with their own rope. And the Banker’s got it.”

“Hmm.” Sinbad rubbed a knuckle under his chin. “The Banker’s a good start. But we’ll need to know what’s happening in the palace, as well. Leverage won’t be nearly as effective in prying Cassim out of there if we don’t know where he is... and the more we can compare what the Banker has on record with what the kingdom thinks they’ve agreed to, the better we can aim our own strike.”

Zainab winced. “We have some contacts in the kitchen staff-”

_You’ve got more than that_ , Alibaba thought, watching Hassan’s stone face. The Fog Troupe had ways of knowing which nobles were easier to attack than others. He hadn’t asked too much about it before, trying not to tread on Cassim’s turf. He wasn’t sure how to ask about it now.

“-but we don’t have anyone who can get further inside.”

That could well be true, Alibaba knew. Just because a contact was willing to give robbers information on nobles he might not like, didn’t mean he’d be willing to let those same robbers have hints that might let them storm the royal treasury again-

Sinbad was smiling.

_I have a bad feeling about this_.

“There’s more than one way to get ears behind closed doors,” the king of Sindria announced grandly. “Isn’t that right, _Prince Alibaba?_ ”

_...Yep,_ Alibaba managed to think, frozen. _It’s bad_.

He didn’t want to think about it. Not the palace he’d been locked up in most of three years; not the people who’d cared - or hadn’t - about the street-grubby interloper in their midst. Even touching the edges of the idea of _I’ll have to go in there to get Cassim_ made Alibaba want to flinch. Being a prince had turned his whole life upside-down and inside-out, and the moment he’d tried to bridge his two worlds....

_Disaster. Death. If I go back there, I’ll just screw everything up. Again_.

But they were running out of options, and out of time.

_I don’t want to tear up anyone else’s life. But if Kou wins here... people in the palace will either be with them, or dead_.

And Alibaba knew at least one man who would never be with the Empire. He hoped. “Is Barkakk still General of the Right?”

“He is,” Ja’far stated. And didn’t quite roll his eyes at Sinbad’s interested look. “You didn’t think I’d let you get this far without making sure there was at least one person in charge of the palace guards who’d be willing to overlook your Vessels when Abhmad tried to throw us in a bottomless chasm, did you?”

Masrur lifted an interested brow, as Sinbad perked up. “Since when does Balbadd have a bottomless chasm?”

“They’d dig one for you,” Ja’far said dryly. “I appreciated the vacation, weeks with nothing trying to mangle you except the wildlife was a pleasant break, but I am _not_ spending a month surviving on snake meat again.”

Alibaba blinked. Felt Morgiana twitch beside him, obviously just as intrigued. Though maybe she just wanted the recipes. “I don’t remember _that_ story.”

Sinbad cleared his throat. “In any case - we know the Banker’s associated with the Kou Empire, and we have to assume he might be working with magicians as well. Before we move on him, we need to have a talk about how you really use a Djinn.”

* * *

“You want me to _what?_ ”

Sinbad raised an eyebrow, deliberately leaning against one of the ruined walls of a burned-out basement outside the Fog Troupe lighthouse hideout. Specifically, the one easiest to climb and escape. Because the whole place was open to the sky, anyone with their hands on their Metal Vessel might jump farther than the average human without thinking about it, and at the moment Alibaba looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

_He doesn’t want to stray too far from Aladdin, but he has enough sense not to want to let fire loose indoors_ , Sinbad thought. _Still, that look on his face_....

He’d dealt with more than one Metal Vessel User seeking to increase their powers. Greed, wonder, joy, wicked anticipation of how the next spar with the King of Sindria might go - Sinbad had seen it all. Or thought he had.

Alibaba looked as if Sinbad had asked him to throw Amon into a gaping abyss of ice. Or worse - drop Morgiana into a sea-pit of viper-sharks.

...Although in that case, Sinbad was betting on the little Fanalis.

“That’s what the Kou princess was doing?” Alibaba shuddered, like Ja’far had just presented _him_ with a breakfast of snakes. “Not - not just borrowing Vinea’s power, but wrapping herself _inside_ her?”

“It’s how a Djinn Equip works,” Sinbad nodded, still troubled. What on earth was the problem? “To manifest a Djinn in this world takes an incredible amount of magoi. Only a magi like Aladdin or Judar can manage it without dying. But if we cover ourselves with a thin layer of the Djinn’s power and assimilate it with our own, we can come close to the power of a manifested Djinn. For a little while.” He grinned, thinking of the first time he’d shown off Baal’s Equip, in the throne room of Sasan. “Of course, that also means we take on some characteristics of their form, as well. That princess’ Djinn must look like a fish! What does your Djinn look like?”

After all, that could be the real difficulty, silly as it was. It’d been hard enough for Sinbad to grit his teeth and take on Zepar’s embarrassingly cute form the first time, and he’d had years of experience with his other Djinn before that. Alibaba was still young enough to be dreadfully mortified, and given Sinbad had no idea what form Amon liked to take-

Oh my. From that wide-eyed, utterly aghast look on the prince’s face, this was going to be _good_.

Alibaba swallowed. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not doing it.”

Huh. That wasn’t embarrassment anymore. More... determination. And anger. The same fire in gold eyes Sinbad had seen in Rashid’s, when someone had suggested the King of Balbadd cross the lines Rashid had drawn for himself and his country ever since he’d taken the throne.

_Why anger?_

“You probably can’t do it; not for some time,” Sinbad said practically. “A Full Equip takes months of practice and learning to synchronize with your Djinn. You should focus on wrapping Amon’s power around your arms, close to his Vessel; that’s a Weapon Equip-”

“A magic weapon isn’t going to save Balbadd,” Alibaba cut him off.

_Maybe Rashid had him too long after all_ , Sinbad reflected. _I need to get his head out of the account ledgers_. “Forget the debts. Balbadd won’t survive if you’re not alive to fight for it. And there is that little matter of a Kou Princess who wants to duel you. Amon’s weapon could save your life.”

Alibaba was shaking his head. “Nothing’s going to do that except luck.”

... _He can’t possibly believe that_.

“She’s stronger than I am, and she’s trained,” the blond went on soberly. “There’s no way I can catch up enough in just a few days to give me a fighting chance. She’s a little flighty, sure, but she’s _not dumb_. And she’s got a good heart. She might like fighting but she doesn’t want to be cruel. When she hits me, it’s going to be a formal show of just how the Kou Empire squashes their enemies like a bug. She’s not going to draw it out. She’ll go straight for her full power - for her Equip - and _swat_ me.”

Unfortunately, likely. But if Alibaba could muster enough power to hold her off, just long enough for the Alliance to step in-

“And _using_ Amon in an Equip - that’s not just using his power. That’s using _him_.” Alibaba shook his head, eyes haunted. “You want to know what happened in that Dungeon? Morgiana almost killed me. Because Jamil used _her_.”

“Eh...?” _Gently, gently_ , Sinbad reminded himself. _She was a slave. That leaves marks. And Alibaba hates slavery more than even most of Balbadd. Rashid’s heart, no doubt_. “Tell me.”

“Jamil - he said some people were born to be _used_ ,” Alibaba got out, a breath from shuddering. “That he’d show me how to use a slave. And then he gave Morgiana his sword and told _her_ to kill me.”

“Cowardly swine,” Sinbad _hmph_ ed. Though not a _stupid_ coward, given he’d sent someone else after Alibaba rather than trying to kill the prince himself. He’d seen bits of Alibaba’s fight with Kougyoku. The young man had managed to hold off a Weapon Equip with just Amon’s elemental power and knifework. That wasn’t just the surprise of a Kou-trained warrior coming up against Balbadd’s royal sword style for the first time. That was _skill_.

“Yes, he was,” Alibaba breathed. “And if I can’t talk to Amon, just command him... _how_ is that different?”

Sinbad started to speak; gave up and took a breath instead. Because from a certain point of view, damn it all, Alibaba had a point. He was fighting for Balbadd’s people and their freedom.

_And there are things a soul can’t do without breaking. I know_.

So. Instead of just running over the youngster’s objections like he wanted, Sinbad tried to take a leaf out of Rurumu’s old book. And think about what the problem looked like through Alibaba’s eyes, rather than pure kingly necessity.

_He doesn’t want to take away Amon’s freedom. He wouldn’t even take command of the Fog Troupe until their lieutenants told him he had it, long enough to get Cassim back. He’s Rashid’s son, he’s a merchant as well as a fighter; he may be a smuggler, but he lives and breathes honorable bargains_ -

Aha. “I haven’t met Amon, so I’m going to have to guess,” Sinbad said thoughtfully, “but given the times I’ve been able to speak to Baal and his fellow Djinns, and how I’ve seen other Djinns relate to their chosen kings... he’d be very irritated if you managed to get yourself killed because you refused to use the power he _chose_ to give you.”

Alibaba started.

_I’ve hit a nerve. Why-? Oh. Ouch_. “Did you honestly think he had no choice but to grant you his power?” Sinbad said, incredulous. _Solomon, why would Rashid make_ you _his heir when you can’t even believe in yourself-_

_Oh_.

For a moment, Sinbad wanted to go back in time and kick an old friend’s stubborn ass. Rashid had made Alibaba his heir - prepared to give over his kingdom to a youngster only a few years out of the slums - because he _hadn’t had any choice_. All the other alternatives were worse.

_The Fog Troupe wouldn’t take him as a leader if they weren’t desperate. The merchants were_ already _desperate. Of_ course _he thinks Amon picked him because there wasn’t a better option. Damn it, Rashid!_

Oh, this was bad. Forget the emotional wreck Rashid might have left in his well-meaning wake. Using your Djinn’s power took the ability to work with another, much _bigger_ , soul wrapped around your own. It took trust. Confidence. The resolve to... well, it was hard to describe, but to _fit_ yourself against that power, and guide it as a finger would a kite-string in the wind.

_I have to do something. For all our sakes_.

“Did you know,” Sinbad said, crossing his arms as if it’d only just occurred to him, “a Djinn doesn’t actually have to choose anyone?”

Gold eyes widened. “They don’t?”

“No.” _And leave it there_ , Sinbad told himself firmly, _give it a minute to sink in_....

“But....” Alibaba wasn’t quite gaping. “Why _me?_ ”

_Heh heh heh_. “As you said, Djinn are people,” Sinbad shrugged, outwardly unconcerned. “I’m sure they each have their own reasons. Though I can tell you Baal wanted someone who wouldn’t give up. Not someone who was the best warrior. Not someone with the most skill. Just a king who would _refuse_ to give up, and so bring that resolve to reshape the world.”

Alibaba almost spoke. Shut his mouth, and glanced aside.

_Wait. Sit on your damn impatience and wait_ , Sinbad told himself. _Remember Rashid. You always got farthest with him if you told him what you knew, then let_ him _think it through. Whenever you pushed, he’d dig in his heels and deflect you until he had more time. So wait_.

“...I don’t want to change the whole world,” Alibaba said at last. “I just want to make things better where I can.”

“Yet here you are, holding off a whole empire,” Sinbad grinned. “That will change the world. If you can stay alive long enough to pull it off.”

“I still think this is kind of creepy.” Alibaba straightened. “But - I did ask, when Aladdin was there. What Amon really wanted. He said he wanted to think about it....” The blond took a deep breath. “But until Aladdin can figure out how we can talk to each other - he said, he trusted me to know when I was defending myself. Or somebody else.”

_Thank Solomon, one of the two of you has some sense_. “This is self-defense. Of yourself and Amon,” Sinbad said firmly. “I saw you hold off the princess with just a knife. If you can master Weapon Equip- maybe you can’t beat her, but you _are_ good enough to stay alive until all of us can come to your aid.”

Alibaba shivered. “If you attack a Kou princess-”

“If things get that far I’ll be at war with the Kou Empire anyway.” Which wasn’t _quite_ true, but Sinbad was sure he’d be able to smooth things out. Somehow. “So. The first thing you need to do is summon your Djinn’s power, and _concentrate_ it....”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortunately Alibaba is canonically a Combat Pragmatist, or Sinbad wouldn’t be able to make this much headway.
> 
> I like Rashid, what we know of him in canon. I sympathize with the king, having a heck of a mess in his kingdom and trying to do the right thing by finding his third son. But he shoved Alibaba into a horrible situation, and I for one can totally sympathize with our blond hero’s canon panic, indecision, and desperation.
> 
> It’s all well and good in fiction to put a character into the position of Last Hope, Savior of his People, and “you’re not an X, but you’re the Closest Thing We’ve Got!”
> 
> Speaking as someone who’s been that Last Hope and Only Sane Man? It is a _living nightmare._
> 
> “Last hope” means everyone else can’t think of anything else to try. Only Sane Man means they feel free to be as crazy as they like, and leave the sane one to pick up the pieces. Everyone else shoves what they should be responsible for on you, and expects you to be happy about it. After all, you’re their Hero.
> 
> They neglect to mention that the pay sucks, the hours suck worse, and since you’re the sane one, no one will listen to you. They’ll just expect you to make sure things come out right despite everything, and hate you if you can’t.
> 
> I can’t blame Alibaba for choking. Or running. Or wanting to run. He is, after all, the _sane_ man in the Balbadd mess. And part of sanity is self-preservation!


	12. Come to the Dark Side....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judar doesn't have cookies. He does have pretty good cider, though.  
> Meanwhile, Alibaba is doing his best not to be a best man. This involves a lot of fire. And screaming.   
> And Kougyoku is plotting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will probably take me some time to get back into the swing of this story after NaNo, but I think this chapter, at least, is set!

Breaking out of Balbadd’s royal palace was a lot harder than Alibaba had made it look.

...Sure, it’d taken Alibaba three years to get back to the slums, Cassim knew. But the blond had been a kid, and maybe a little stupid, and definitely not as good with bribes as a skilled Fog Troupe thief. Of _course_ it would have taken him a while to figure things out. But Cassim was older, wiser, and a lot more willing to hit someone over the head. Whether he left them breathing or not. It had to be easier for him to get out.

So far, though, he’d barely gotten out of Judar’s suite. And counted himself lucky to have done that. This place was _creepy_.

_Guards all over the place_ , Cassim thought darkly, trying to lurk in a shadow of the Kou delegation’s rooms. _Servants all over the place. And you can’t throw a brick without hitting a noble_.

And Judar was a noble, even if he snickered about leaving King Abhmad as a grease spot for Kougyoku’s Djinn to wash away. He had that same casual arrogance, that assumption all the world was going to go his way, that Cassim had seen in the worst of them. Granted, for now all that power seemed to be on his side, but Cassim had seen people like Judar switch allegiances whenever the wind blew. So long as Judar thought he was an asset to Princess Kougyoku, the crazy magi would help. If he happened to stray over that line... bam.

Worst of it was, he might actually owe the magi a favor, assuming Judar was telling the truth about the Fogblades. Alibaba was an idealistic idiot, but he didn’t want to _kill_ the kid.

Only when he’d had the Fogblade on him, he’d come a little too close to doing just that, too many times. It... didn’t really make _sense_. Like the crazy things people might do in a fever, then wake up from and wonder who the hell had spiked their drink, and how hard they’d need to pound it into the bastards to _never do that again_.

_Someone wanted that blade to kill a king_.

And Judar had an idea who, and why. And wasn’t telling him. Because the magi had his own plots running.

_Idiot had better start talking to me anyway_. Cassim almost growled under his breath. _If he’s like Alibaba he thinks he has to handle everything himself, and nobody’s going to rescue him if he gets in over his head, and that’s going to get him_ killed.

Or worse. Given how that sword had muddled him up, Cassim was finally beginning to believe there actually could be a “worse”.

And he wanted to get his hands on whoever’d made that sword, because he had plenty of his _own_ reasons to punch Alibaba in the face, take everything the little _prince_ had, and leave the nobles dying in the gutter, drowning in their own blood. He didn’t need some hunk of magic steel pushing him farther.

Yeah. He definitely had to slaughter the sword-maker. Because damn it, now he owed the crazy magi, and there was no way he planned to owe anything to a guy whose head had been messed with by someone even crazier. So... if he wanted to pay his debts honestly, he had to get Judar out of here.

Cassim considered that thought, and his current situation, and wondered how bad it’d hurt when he banged his head against the wall. Alibaba’s crazy had to be catching.

_But if I could get him out of here... he’s a magi. Magi raise Dungeons. Dungeons give the Kou Empire more Djinn to use. So... if I could get Judar out of here, it’d help all of us_.

And he was going to fence off that implication that Judar wanted to take him into a Dungeon, and make sure it had iron bars holding it in when he went to poke it with a stick. Because he _wanted_ that kind of power. So much.

And in the slums, anything you wanted that badly, a noble was going to use to screw you over.

_Hell, I can even see how he’ll do it_ , Cassim scowled, sinking deeper into the shadow of an embroidered drape of some useless kind. _Get his princess someone who’s got the power Kou wants, but no noble blood to threaten her with. That lets the empire put in all the fixers they want - they’re just_ helping, _right?_

Nope. Not happening. He was going to take over the monarchy for _himself_ , not as their enemies’ puppet-

Hello. There was a reason for that embroidered monstrosity of silk to be here after all. The niche behind it was shallow and concealed, but the opening into another, much more drab corridor was easy enough for a thief to find.

_Servants’ passageways. Now we’re getting somewhere_.

Though now he had to be even more cautious. The nobles in the main corridors might be too distracted to look at shadows, but servants didn’t have that luxury. They’d be watching. They’d be cautious. Hell, in corridors this narrow even if they were distracted they might just run straight-

Cassim jumped, gripped stone, and braced himself, as a small servant girl carrying a pile of linens nearly as tall as she was scurried through.

“Don’t drop anything!” a man’s voice hissed from around the corner. “Or you’ll be doing it all again!”

_Bastard_. Cassim knew how much work clean linens were even when you didn’t have a sadist making you do it over. Anis and his mother had both done laundry for food and goods, back when they’d been alive. Among... other things.

_Soap cracks your hands, scrubbing breaks your back, have to make sure you hang it all so it doesn’t catch dirt again while it’s getting dry- ugh_. Cassim’s fingers clenched on worked stone, barely feeling the burn of holding his own weight up here. Compared to a day’s work on the streets, this was nothing.

“Don’t think we’ll get out of it if the brat does drop them.” A woman’s voice, sour the way only someone who’d been beaten down could be. “You should just be glad she’s too young to be scared of those... things.”

“ _You_ should be careful. They’re the delegation’s honored bodyguards.”

A long silence, broken only by shuffling footsteps behind a sturdier strut, the elderly maidservant carrying a basket of something that smelled a little like oranges as she followed a man in plain servant’s off-white.

“You can’t believe what you hear from the guards,” the man grumbled. “Who could hide elephant trunks under a veil, anyway? It’s crazy. Something out of a Sinbad story.”

“Oh yes. Of course it is.” The elderly woman’s voice was far too humble to be real. “Didn’t you hear? They’re trying to keep it quiet, but the king of Sindria was in the palace, just a few days ago....”

_Monsters hiding under a veil_. Cassim waited until they were out of earshot, then quietly dropped back down to the floor, shaking out one arm. _Monsters that came with the Kou_.

Sounded way too much like what he’d glimpsed the other night, before Judar had used some kind of magic to knock him out. Cassim scowled, looking up and down the servants’ passageway, back that way might take him more toward the palace walls-

Grimacing, Cassim headed after the girl.

_I want to see what tried to attack my people. And how much damage Alibaba did to them_.

Had to have been quite a bit. After all, the Kou were here, and Alibaba wasn’t. And they wouldn’t have let a wanted criminal get away unless they didn’t have a choice, right?

_But Judar didn’t act like he was mad at all. And he ought to be mad if the Fog Troupe took down his monsters... unless he’s nuts. More nuts than I thought_.

In which case he didn’t care what he owed the bastard. You didn’t pay back debts to crazy people. Not if paying back would drag you down in the crazy with them.

_Time to find out_.

* * *

“The roof?” Alibaba’s voice was level as he crouched beside Morgiana behind a mansion parapet. Almost normal. She could barely see the tremors in his hands. “You seriously want to punch in to the Banker’s lair through the roof?”

Masrur nodded, as Sinbad cast them and the thieves behind them a sober look. “It’s the best way. The Banker’s part of Al-Thamen, and this isn’t his _official_ residence. That means when he’s here he probably has all sorts of malevolent magic at his beck and call if he needs it, and none of us are magicians. And when he’s not here - and with luck he won’t be, the palace has to be still scrambling for the wedding and he’ll want to stir the pot - well, we’re not likely to see trap-spells until we’re on them. Masrur and Morgiana can probably break most effects that try to seize them; you should be able to cut your way through with Amon. And I... have a few tricks up my own sleeve.”

Remembering how Sinbad had sloughed magic water away with a touch, Morgiana nodded.

“But the best way to fight magic is not to fight at all,” Sinbad went on. “No one sane guards the roof. Who could get up there, anyway?”

“Ja’far,” Masrur stated.

“Magic carpet,” Alibaba said wryly.

“Us,” Morgiana agreed.

Sinbad squinted at them.

Alibaba blinked, wide golden-eyed innocence. “You asked?”

“How did anyone ever doubt you were Rashid’s?” Sinbad shook his head slowly. “You both have the same _evil_ sense of humor.”

Masrur reached over and poked his king, just enough to rouse an _oof_. “Rashid was practical. Idiot of the Seven Seas.”

Alibaba’s shoulders fell. “You mean he’d find some better way to do this.”

Masrur frowned. Glanced at Morgiana, one brow lifting slightly.

“Your father would have been here,” Morgiana stated, reading that silent determination from Masrur. “He’d just remember that the roof could be guarded, too.”

“Even if it’s not, people are going to notice,” Alibaba muttered, eyeing the traffic in streets below. “I wish we could wait until dark-”

“Can’t,” Sinbad cut him off with a grin. “Not unless you want to be a guest at a wedding.”

“...I think I hate you.”

She might too, just a tiny bit, Morgiana thought. The way Alibaba seemed to _frizz_ when Sinbad brought up a royal wedding, like a cat facing a mastiff- ouch.

But Alibaba frizzed out was Alibaba ready to move, rather than trying not to shake at how big their enemy was. So maybe she didn’t hate Sinbad at all. “We’ll move fast,” she said plainly. They’d move even faster if Ja’far was with them, all grace and knives... but someone had to make sure Aladdin would be okay. “In and out before the guards can get here.”

“Ow!” Came from behind her. “My ear!”

“Move your pointy chin away from my elbow!”

Alibaba looked back, and blinked at the bandit-pile Masrur had gathered up over his head. “Ah....”

“Well, how else are we all going to jump the gap?” Sinbad said reasonably, letting Masrur pick him up in his other arm.

“But- we-!”

“It’s okay.” Morgiana smiled as she scooped Alibaba up into her arms. “It’s not that far at all!”

“...Eeep.”

It wasn’t that far. Alibaba wasn’t heavy. Just a jump, and the rush of wind through her hair, touching down on slick roof tiles-

_Crash_.

Alibaba was balanced on the roof beside her, not quite sliding into the sudden hole Masrur and his burden had crushed through the tiles. “I should have thought of that.”

Oh. Right. It wasn’t just the weight of the bandits, it was the falling.

_Oops_. _Now what do we_ -

Feathers exploded up out of the hole, some of them attached to escaping messenger pigeons. Red eyes gleamed in the sun, most of the flock turning as one to _study_ them.

Morgiana tensed, suddenly uneasy as wings beat overhead. That was the way cats looked at a wounded bird, why would doves-?

There was... something spreading over gray and white feathers. Something black, and shimmering at the edges like hot sand, even as talons gleamed like steel. The flock bunched, then spread out like a manta ray’s wings, poised to swoop down and engulf them.

“Killer pigeons!” Sinbad’s voice floated up from below, positively gleeful as ungodly screeches and thumps echoed up with it. “I knew I liked Balbadd!”

Morgiana glanced at Alibaba. He shrugged, and jerked his head toward the hole, giving her a terrified, resigned grin.

Together, they jumped down into chaos.

* * *

_I am so in over my head it’s not funny_....

Which had to be why he was almost laughing, Alibaba knew, slashing fire at things that weren’t quite pigeons anymore. Because everything in here might be trying to kill him-

He ducked, as a Fog Troupe sword swiped at dark wings and almost took off his hair.

-But at least it wasn’t account books.

_This is a gamble. Scariest one so far_.

Hitting the Banker’s _unacknowledged_ residence, here in the rich merchant section of town, rather than the stunning apartments the man was known to have closer to the palace. Counting on the fact that any real documents, true and legal information on exactly how the man’s organization had screwed over Balbadd, ought to be here, closer to his lines of communication with the Empire.

If he was right, they’d get everything they needed to lay their case in front of other nations. If he was wrong....

_Please let me be right_.

He hoped he was. He and Jahan and every merchant Alibaba had been able to talk to, and Cassim when he felt like it - all of them had been tracking down information on the Banker ever since Alibaba had learned how Balbadd was tangled in a Kou Empire web. It’d taken weeks to get a clue about this place, and almost a month more to confirm it - but this was it. All the showy stuff, the dealings with Abhmad and other nobles that took place outside the palace? They happened in the mansion uptown. But when the Banker didn’t want to be seen? He was _here_.

_This is where the nobles never come. Anything secret has to be here_.

Alibaba dodged out of the way of steel talons and someone’s flying fist, almost tripping over a bit of stray roof-tile dotting the floor of this lethal dove-cote. _Top floor, there’s a ladder down...._ _Where are the servants?_

Official residence or not, anyone with the Banker’s access to the royal court had to have servants. It was a matter of prestige. Wealth. Enough labor to keep a rich mansion polished and sparkling.

Granted, if Alibaba had been a servant in this house he wouldn’t have wanted to come anywhere near these not-so-innocent messenger birds. But there was no way servants could have missed the noise.

_So hiding, heading this way, running for the guards_ -

Or - worst of all - heading for the _Banker’s_ account books. “Morgiana!”

She dropped down the opening like it was nothing; Alibaba followed, gripping the rails and sliding down as he would a ship’s ladder.

_Smack-crunch_.

Okay, he could already identify the sound of Morgiana’s foot breaking some poor bastard’s jaw. The redhead was terrifying and on his side and it was _awesome_.

Which of course was when two of the servants she hadn’t jumped yet tried to jump him, eyes blind and white.

_Not human!_

But no, one bled when Alibaba slashed his wrist to make him drop the knife. The other flinched from fire; not a human flinch, more like something _remembered_ fire was dangerous but not _why_....

_Human, but nobody’s home in their head. What do I do? If it’s not really them fighting me I don’t want to kill them-!_

He flared Amon’s flames to distract them; leapt past to slash the rod suspending a hanging tapestry showing Reimish soldiers bloodily massacring an unlucky band of Partevians. “Morg!” Alibaba grabbed one end of heavy cloth, snapping the other at his opponents. “Want to gift-wrap?”

White teeth flashed in her grin, as she seized that end and _moved_.

It wasn’t _quite_ long enough to wrap the two spell-dazed servants up. But it slowed them down enough for Morg to lock an arm around each throat and - very gently - squeeze.

Out cold, the servants slumped to the floor.

Morgiana frowned, and gently tilted one unconscious man’s head so he could breathe freely. “Where now?”

“We never got a person in here,” Alibaba said, distracted, glancing between ornamented doorways even though he knew Morgiana was more likely to hear anything coming long before he could see it. “But most places like this have a regular plan, so the study should be....” He pointed toward the end of the hall; a plainer wooden door, with an obvious keyhole and heavy iron studs that hinted it could be barred from the inside.

Red hair fluttered in a determined nod. Morgiana gave him a moment to catch his breath, then leapt.

“Wait! You might want to check if it’s-”

Wood spun away from Morgiana’s impact, sending the surprised Fanalis whirling off-balance into the study.

“-Locked first,” Alibaba finished ruefully. Sighed, and hurried that way. The faster they found the relevant documents, the sooner they could get out of here, the better chance they had of avoiding all the guards in Balbadd....

With a moan like a lost soul, iron-bound wood slammed closed.

Alibaba halted, ice trickling down his spine.

“Oh my, oh my!” There was a rattling sound beyond the door, like a marble shaken in a clay jar. The shadows at the jamb and hinges thickened, spinning tendrils of darkness out to grip the doorframe and the walls beyond. “I seem to have trapped a little Fanalis-kitten. _Whatever_ shall I do with it?”

* * *

Masrur shook off steel-edged feathers, wrinkling his nose at the bite of acid in the air as Hassan’s Fogblade dissolved some of their last attackers. The Fog Troupe wasn’t willing to risk _both_ their lieutenants, and they’d known this would be close quarters, so Zainab had stayed behind to coordinate the Vessel-search. He almost wished she hadn’t. These weren’t the toughest Dungeon creatures he’d ever met, but they were dangerous enough; and making sure Sinbad kept himself in one piece was a lot easier with one more sane and canny person to help.

Right now Sinbad was cleaning his own battered sword with a rag and a grin. “Good. The way our luck’s been running, I was sure the Banker would be-”

A Fanalis’ scream rent the air; vibrating and lethally angry.

“-Home,” Sinbad said without missing a beat. “Ah. And he is.”

Masrur jumped down the ladder, trusting Sinbad would follow. His own curiosity would make sure of that.

“Not too fast,” Sinbad said, racing on his heels.

Not too fast? Granted he didn’t know much about his own people, but even a youngster like Morgiana wouldn’t scream without good cause-

Yet Sinbad’s hand was on his shoulder as they came in view of flickering flames, holding him back to watch Alibaba raise fire and magic against a dark-writhing door. “What a Metal Vessel User needs most is _resolve_.”

* * *

Flames kept the shadow-tendrils off him, but he couldn’t get closer.

_Not without pulling out a lot more fire_ , Alibaba thought desperately. He didn’t know what the Banker was doing to Morgiana, the scream that’d rattled his bones at least made it clear she was still fighting, but his imagination was painting everything in crimson blood. _Can’t use more fire, I’d burn the whole place down with us in it!_

And they’d lose the documents. Which meant all Balbadd’s hope might go up in smoke.

Though if it came down to a choice between Balbadd’s hope and Morgiana’s life, he’d let it go up in smoke. Cities could be rebuilt, documents might be copied - or forged - but a human life was something you’d _never_ get back.

_Maybe - maybe if I just used a_ tight _flame, just to cut the shadows_....

Fire leapt and ebbed around his blade, fruitlessly as it had when he’d tried to do a Weapon Equip under Sinbad’s watchful eye. Compressing Amon’s power just didn’t seem to work, he couldn’t figure out why-

Morgiana screamed. A human scream, this time, followed by the Banker’s snickering laughter.

_I need-_

_-To get through-_

_-This door!_

The world was fire, and he lunged.

Wood and shadows cracked and fell away from his blade as Alibaba skidded through the study door. Books and scrolls were tumbled everywhere, some torn as if by flying feet, as Morgiana struggled against shadow-chains binding her wrists to each other and a leash from a grasping, inhuman hand-

_No_.

Black metal was light as a feather; hot as the rage that anyone would dare bind Morgiana again. She’d fought for her freedom, harder than anyone. And she’d risked it to help him, because he was a _friend_.

The shadow-chain shattered and burned, black flaking away into shining black birds.

_Rukh. It’s rukh, but it’s black. Sinbad was telling the truth_ -

“A fire Djinn!” The Banker grinned, wide and too white to be real, circling around as Morgiana leapt to Alibaba’s side. “And we were sure Merhdad’s power was Light. Who ever heard of a Djinn of Fire putting flames _out...?_ ”

_They knew-?_ Blade in hand, Alibaba flinched back. _This isn’t just a trap for Sinbad!_

From the bookshelves, darkness exploded.

Without Morgiana, he’d have been snared in an instant. As it was he couldn’t think, just slice and stab and call fire to lick over any tendril that threatened to drag her down-

The Seal on black metal shimmered, fire fading back to a simple knife.

A deep, too-hearty chuckle, as darkness whipped around helpless steel. “Oh my, _now_ we’ve got-”

_Thunk_.

Alibaba dropped to his knees, gasping; still feeling the chill that had radiated from black bindings. Morgiana was shaking beside him, as if she’d been left out in desert frost.

Sinbad drove his blade deeper into the Banker’s white robes, a golden heat-shimmer swirling about steel; teeth bared in a snarl as no blood bloomed. “If there’s one thing I’ve always hated about your kind, it’s that you _can’t leave innocents alone_.”

“No blood.” Morgiana’s teeth were still chattering, as she gripped Alibaba’s arm. “Why don’t I smell blood?”

Sinbad’s smile was all sharp edges, twisting the blade as the Banker tried to speak. “Oh, that’s an interesting trick they have... Masrur!”

A red blur, and the Banker’s head went flying.

_No blood_ , Alibaba thought, eyes wide as white robes seemed to collapse, leaving something... rattling on the ground?

_A wooden doll?_

Painted like the Banker, with the same white, inhuman teeth. Alibaba shuddered.

“Well, we can’t leave that lying around, or he’ll be back as soon as Al-Thamen scrapes some more black rukh together.” Sinbad stalked a wide circle around the doll, and went to one knee beside him. “Summon Amon. One more time.”

_So tired_. “I... don’t think I can-”

“I’ll help you.” Sinbad placed his hand over Alibaba’s. “This is a neat trick; if you learn to master magoi, you’ll be able to do it yourself.” He nodded at the doll. “Don’t leave that darkness to snare another soul.”

_No_. Alibaba took a breath, and poured his heart into fire. _Amon!_

The black blade shattered painted wood, burning it to ashes, and then nothing.  

... _I want to fall over now_. Alibaba swallowed, and leaned on Sinbad to keep standing. “We have to... get the documents. Anything we can, but - the trade agreements. We have to find them....”

Sinbad pushed him into Morgiana’s supporting arms, granting him an approving nod. “I think I still know what trade agreements look like.”

True. Though Alibaba thought that no matter how tired he was, he’d better stay on top of things as much as he could. No point in letting Sinbad walk off with _everything_ that wasn’t nailed down.

...Half, maybe. He could live with half.

Though what Sindria might or might not pry loose wasn’t the point; not anymore. Alibaba stared at the patch of floor where not even ashes remained, heart sinking. “I just started a war.”

Sinbad’s hand clapped his shoulder, startling him. “Al-Thamen started it,” the king of Sindria said firmly. “You just told them they’re not getting away with it.”

* * *

_What was that?_

Perched atop one of the taller mansions near the palace, Ithnan grimaced. What that scattered burst of darkness was, was all too obvious; someone had shattered the Banker’s doll, sending his spirit back into Al-Thamen’s hands.

_Inconvenient_ , Ithnan thought coldly, gathering up most of that dark power before it could flee. He’d planned to do no less himself, of course - but only after the Kou Empire had Balbadd tight in its grip, so the uprising he would spark with the Fog Troupe would cause the most fear and confusion. Between a howling mob and the Banker’s black rukh, he’d have more than enough power to craft a Dark Djinn. And that... would allow _many_ possibilities.

_Taking Sinbad into our darkness. Taking whoever of the royal family survives the slaughter - if any do. Shattering any will to resist the Kou Empire’s plans, and so ours. Sinking Balbadd into hate and despair that would swell into the pit of black rukh we need...._

_Whoever that Metal Vessel User was, their timing is_ very _annoying_.

It had to be a King Candidate. No lesser power could cut through the protections on their mannequin bodies. Meaning Sinbad, or....

_Merhdad_. Ithnan frowned, staring toward the Banker’s lair. _It could be Merhdad_.

They knew the smugglers had _some_ sort of magic, after all. Rumors of uncanny darkness alone would have told them that, even if Ithnan hadn’t picked up the traces of Cassim’s Fogblade being used against a cleaner, more ancient power. Merhdad’s weapon could have just been a Magic Tool, of course - but no mere Magic Tool should have shattered that enchanted shell.

_And it just doesn’t_ feel _right for Sinbad_.

There’d been no triumphant fountain of light as Sinbad cut down another dark magician; no blaze of familiar magoi from his known seven Djinn. Just a scattering of bright sparks in the rukh, like a stirred-up fire-

Reflex made Ithnan draw the breath his body didn’t need. _Fire. I know that rukh!_

Amon. Of all Djinn, how had Merhdad seized _Amon?_

_Ten years, Judar had that tower raised in Qishan, slaying all who entered it. And finally our puppet Jamil took the bait... and did not return_. Ithnan’s eyes narrowed. _Judar sent the Dungeon back down. I know it; one of our agents was there. How could anyone have come out alive?_

_How_ would have to wait. Merhdad had done it. Meaning there was one more Djinn loose in the world than Al-Thamen had planned for, in hands they didn’t know. The hands of a King Candidate devoted to that stubborn, scattered light keeping Balbadd from despair.

_How can we use this?_ Ithnan frowned, thinking. _With the Banker gone, I’ll have to either enspell my way into Abhmad’s court or work through the Kou delegation_. Both of which were possible, but would take time. And swifter measures... weren’t advisable. Sinbad was still being his usual overconfident self, and Al-Thamen needed him to keep doing that until they could pin him down under a well of black rukh so deep he’d drown in it.

_The wedding will be in a few days. The perfect time to rouse a howling mob against the foreign interlopers trying to manipulate Balbadd’s king. If I have to, I can walk right in where no one’s supposed to have weapons, and create a Dark Djinn there. We’ll see if the King of the Seven Seas can walk away from_ that.

_In the meantime... what should I do about Judar?_

* * *

Judar was almost, _almost_ tempted to hang upside-down from his carpet to give his would-be king an innocent look. The way the guy was currently clambering down an afternoon-shadowed balcony to drop into the midst of lethal Dungeon monsters, Cassim deserved it. “She really _will_ like you, you know.”

“Gah!”

Judar swooped underneath just in case Cassim let go at the wrong moment. “She only dresses up in all those silks and layers because she has to. Princess has to be proper, after all. She’d much rather be climbing up the peach trees. She finds out you’re half-monkey, she’ll be thrilled.” He shrugged. “Of course, she’ll also be asking you to get down the really good ones up near the thin branches. And you’d better share. I like peaches, too.”

Cassim’s knuckles whitened, gripping shallow niches of stone. “What are you _doing_ here?” he hissed.

“Trying to keep you from getting killed?” Judar let his gaze slip sideways and down, to where a horde of unkillable monkeys were lounging in courtyard shade. “Unless you’ve got a Magic Tool stashed where I don’t want to search you, they’ll rip you to shreds. So what are you doing here?”

Dark eyes smoldered. “They went after my gang.”

“They did that,” Judar agreed, smiling. “Made a huge, bloody mess. And that was with the rest of your gang fighting back. The Fog Troupe’s not here. How far do you think you’re going to get?”

Cassim’s teeth flashed in a snarl. “You let them-!”

“Oh, if you want to argue, let’s do it inside, ‘kay?” Judar waved an invitation, carpet ruffling softly in the breeze. “Before the ugly kitty down there decides to pull a sword on both of us. He’s annoying.”

For a long moment he thought Cassim wasn’t going to see sense. That he’d just cling to the stone perch he’d chosen - or worse, drop into the midst of monsters. Which Judar could handle, sure; but it’d be an awful mess.

Jaw set, Cassim dropped onto the carpet.

_We have communication!_ Judar tried not to grin too broadly, sweeping their cloth ride up and away before the multi-trunked monster below could get a good whiff of them. _Awesome. Of course, there’s going to be a lot of yelling_....

Cassim waited until they’d floated in to land on Judar’s balcony before he snarled. “How many of my Troupe are dead?”

“No idea.” Judar flipped his braid back. “Could be a lot. Might be no one; with the idiot king and his Fanalis there, your bunch were putting up a good fight, even with the princess keeping your smuggler buddy busy.”

“He’s not my _buddy_.”

“Of course he’s not.” Judar paused, and went in for the kill. “Why would the leader of the Fog Troupe be buddies with Alibaba Saluja, third prince of Balbadd?”

Dead silence.

_Ha! Nailed it!_

Ah. There came the knives again. Sheesh. You’d think he’d have learned the last time. “I’m not going to _tell_ anyone,” Judar sighed, sphere of magic holding off frantic steel. “Who’d believe it, anyway? Well... I’m sure the princess would. She likes heroic stories. Prince raised out of the gutters, loyal friend beside him when all the nobles would stab him in the back - it’s a classic. She’d get all sobby if she heard it. Too close to home, you know?” He let his eyes narrow. “Only it didn’t happen quite that way, did it?”

Cassim eyed his Borg, and let his knife-hand sink back to a guard. “Are you planning to make sense? _Ever?_ ”

Heh. Family always did make people thick. Good thing he didn’t have one. “I’m saying that I think I know your friend’s story, because it’s the hag’s story, too,” Judar said, with every ounce of patience he could scrape together. “Born from royalty, born to a commoner; left alone like an old rag doll out in the rain, until all of a sudden it might be _useful_. And oh, _then_ you get picked up and pampered and made to look good... as long as you do what the real power wants. Want to do what you want, do something that might help the people you care about? Hell, no, that’s not happening. Unless you’re smart. And sneaky. And manage to scrape together power of your own when they’re not looking. That’s what Princess Kougyoku did. Prince Alibaba - well, from what I found out, he wasn’t that lucky, was he?”

In that moment, dark eyes hated him.

_Good. I can live with that. Hate me, it’s still attention_. “You know, I don’t really care if you like me,” Judar observed. “You’ve got potential, and I want to see you use it. Even if you’re throwing all a Djinn’s magic at me. Heck, the idiot king does that _all the time_.” He let the humor drain from his face. “But if you hate the princess because she’s like your not-buddy, because she’s royalty whether she likes it or not - I will grind you into pieces so small your _bones_ will scream for mercy.” He grinned again. “Are we clear?”

Something in the set of Cassim’s shoulders seemed to relax a little at that. Like a bird finding a familiar perch. “I thought nobles didn’t lower themselves to threaten people. They just use _hints_ , and then chop people’s heads off.”

“Eh.” Judar waved the whole idea off to the rubbish bin where it belonged. “Prince Kouha has too much fun chopping people’s heads off. So why bother hinting? Saves on rug-cleaning-”

Smoke. He smelled smoke.

And _he_ hadn’t set anything in here on fire.

_No, no, no one would dare-!_

His notes were ashes on the table, and the Fogblade was gone.

_“Stay put.”_

_Say what?_ Judar’s jaw dropped as Cassim shoved him into the empty center of the room and proceeded to look under tables and behind curtains. He was a magi, there was no way anything that’d been left here could be a real threat to him....

Well. There was one person who could be. And her agents were definitely here.

_Which still doesn’t explain what he thinks he can do_.... Judar blinked, and almost fell out of the air. “Are you _worried_ about me?”

Finished poking under a divan, Cassim straightened. “Look. You like blunt? I’ll give you blunt. You’re helping the Kou Empire take over here. I want Balbadd to be _ours_. But we both think Abhmad is a sack of pig swill. Alibaba... well. Blood’s blood. He probably won’t have the ice in his veins to do the bastard in. _You_ wouldn’t have that problem.”

_Ooo. You do care. Kind of. In a cute bloodthirsty way_. “And this is where you say you think we can make a deal.” Judar flipped his wand between his fingers. “You’re kind of low on cards.” _Unless we take you through a Dungeon, and you do earn a Djinn_.

Cassim grinned, sharp and white. “I don’t think so.”

_Interesting_.

“ _If_ the Kou Empire takes over, the Fog Troupe will still be here,” Cassim stated. “You think we gave Abhmad trouble, when the guards here are our own people? You have no idea what we’d do to imperial soldiers. You’d be losing men every time you turned around, Djinn or no Djinn.”

Huh. And Cassim was vicious enough to do it, too. Even in the face of the reprisals the Empire would undoubtedly carry out on completely innocent civilians. The only way to stop him would be to kill him.

...Well. That or mind-warp him. Which, ugh. Nasty.

“And if the Kou take Balbadd, they’ll have the navy base they need to go after Sindria,” Cassim went on. “That means any war they launch will be over way too soon for you to have some _real_ fun.”

_Very interesting_. “What kind of fun did you have in mind?” Judar wondered.

“Oh, I don’t know - flying out to sea and calling down a thunderstorm on a whole fleet?” Cassim shrugged. “I don’t know enough about magic to know what you think is really fun.” He eyed the magi, focused as flame. “But the best card I have is... you don’t know Alibaba.”

“Oh, I don’t?” Judar sniffed. “You’re the one who said I was like him.”

“Yeah.” Cassim’s grin showed even more teeth. “So what would you do, if someone was trying to invade _your_ hometown?”

Silly question; he didn’t have a hometown. Still, to give the man the benefit of the doubt... if the Empress’ mystic lackeys had ever made a more blatant move toward the king candidates he’d nurtured into their powers, especially Kougyoku-

_I’d slaughter the low-powered ones, but that might just set me up for the powerhouses to flatten me_ , Judar allowed. _So... assume I have to be sneaky. Which I have been. What do I do to make people ever regret laying hands on what’s mine...?_

Judar arched a curious brow, truly intrigued. “What’s he got set to go off in the Kou Empire?”

Cassim chuckled, eyes dark with old pain. “I don’t know. Want to find out the hard way?”

Oh, this was going to be _good_. “It’s got to be something truly nasty,” Judar thought out loud. “Something that’d keep the entire Empire too busy to tackle one stubborn port city. He knows we have Djinns, so... probably something that doesn’t require magic. And he knows we’re trying to kill him, so... something that can still get set off if he’s _dead_.” He stared at the gang-leader. “What on earth could he do?”

“I don’t know,” Cassim repeated, utterly confident. “But I know he’s set up something. Probably a lot of things; Alibaba never did trust that _one_ trick would work.” Dark eyes glittered with bitter humor. “Maybe he’s a prince, and too trusting, and way too soft. But he’s not a _liar_.”

So using a false identity didn’t weigh as a lie on Cassim’s scales. Useful to know. “If he’s got it set up to go off if he dies, he’s not going to call it off just because we’ve got you,” Judar pointed out. “I wouldn’t. Change your plans once because someone gets kidnapped, your people won’t ever be safe again.”

“Who said anything about calling it off?” Cassim shrugged. “You want the Kou Empire’s plans snarled up, without making it look like you snarled them. And you want the _princess_ in one piece.”

Judar scowled at the twist Cassim gave to the title. “Keep talking.” _And if I don’t like what you say, lightning bolts are still an option_.

“Alive or dead, Alibaba’s going to make one hell of a mess.” Cassim leaned forward, dangerous and daring. “Why not get her in a position to take advantage of it?”

* * *

Kougyoku leaned forward in her chair, intent on Ka Kobun’s report. “Sinbad _left_ the traveler’s inn?”

“With his entourage.” Her assistant frowned. “All two of them. What is the man thinking? If he’s truly missing his Vessels then his Household has no power of their own. Er - well, aside from the Fanalis, and that odd ability to block a Djinn’s magic....”

Kougyoku nibbled a knuckle, thinking about that. If Sinbad of Sindria could melt her Equip - Merhdad couldn’t even manage a Weapons Equip, surely the king could handle him.

...If he ever intended to keep his word in the first place.

“I don’t believe it,” Kougyoku mumbled into her hand. “He’s supposed to be... well... he wouldn’t do that to a lady!”

Maybe not to a lady. But given the growing tension between Sindria and the Kou Empire - the Emperor kept saying there would be peace, but her brothers privately admitted that was to buy enough time to build a proper navy - Sinbad _might_ do it to the Empire’s representative. Maybe.

She raised her eyes to her assistant, who looked worried behind his facepaint. “Do you think he thinks I don’t have power, Ka Kobun?”

“Of course not, Princess! Why, you are-”

“This is _serious_ ,” Kougyoku insisted. “I’m not as clever as Koumei, we both know that. And things here are a lot more complicated than the Banker said they were.”

Ka Kobun hesitated, then gathered up his robes and sat down. “I think King Sinbad is used to being very, very powerful, Princess. I’m not sure he’s as afraid of the Kou Empire as he should be.”

Well, that made her feel a little better. Though it didn’t really solve the problem. “He’s gone, and he took Merhdad,” Kougyoku ticked off what they knew for sure on her fingers. “He doesn’t have his Vessels, but... he _has_ Merhdad. Which means he does have a Djinn’s power, if he can talk Merhdad into it.”

Ka Kobun scowled. “Not turning over an Imperial criminal could be grounds for a war.”

“But Balbadd isn’t the Empire yet,” Kougyoku reminded him. “Right now - couldn’t Sinbad argue that Merhdad’s a criminal in Sindria, and he’s got the right to take him first?”

“That... could be argued, yes,” her assistant admitted. “Your father would never stand for it.”

“But the Empire is a long way away.” Kougyoku nibbled her knuckle again, trying to think this through. She wasn’t Koumei; or even Kouha, who didn’t even try to understand their elder brothers’ great plan, just his place in it. But she’d been given the task of taking Balbadd, and she _would_ try to do her job.

“It’s possible he just wants to show that Sindria does not bow to the Empire, and he’ll show up with Merhdad just as he promised,” Ka Kobun said hopefully.

“I know, and I hope he does.” Though that would mean killing Merhdad, who’d grinned at her and fought just as dirty as Kouha. Which meant he respected her enough to know he had to fight dirty, and that... that made her feel warm and tingly and a little confused. But it’d be an honorable death. Not everyone got that. “Only - what if he doesn’t? What if King Sinbad thinks getting another Metal Vessel User for Sindria is worth crossing us here?”

Ka Kobun opened his mouth... and shut it again, thoughtful.

Kougyoku nodded, feeling oddly relieved. “Right! We’re worth a lot to the Empire; the armies wouldn’t fight nearly as well without us. And how many of us are there? Me, my brothers....”

Not that she intended to name them, or give real numbers. This might be a delegation’s quarters, but she’d be an idiot if she thought King Abhmad had no way to spy here. After all, if he were in the Kou Empire, her father would spy on _him_.

“One more Djinn Warrior on his side could well make a difference,” Ka Kobun admitted. “Do you think we walked in on a negotiation?”

“I don’t _know_.” And that was annoying, and a little scary. “But what if it was?” She lowered her hand from her mouth, trying to look properly princess-like. “I know Merhdad’s a criminal, and he probably _should_ be executed. But a Fire Djinn! Couldn’t we use another Djinn Warrior, if we could get him to fight for the Empire, instead of Sindria?”

A shimmer of green magic swept over the room. Kougyoku grabbed for her hairpin as Ka Kobun snatched up his fan, Sound Magic could do a lot of things that weren’t harmless at all-

_Quiet. It’s so quiet_. Kougyoku listened to her own heartbeat, Ka Kobun’s quick breathing. _We can hear inside the room, but nothing’s getting out. Why-?_

“Talking him into it miiiiight be a little tricky.” Judar’s voice floated into her chambers; followed shortly after by the floating footsteps of the magi himself, and-

Kougyoku held onto her hairpin, seeing the dark-haired Balbadd ruffian who’d seemed half in charge of the whole Sinbad mess before Judar had knocked him out. “Why are _you_ here?”

Judar gave her a bow that was... well, about as sincere as the magi was about anything. “Princess Kougyoku Ren, Cassim of the Fog Troupe. Cassim, the lady who can drown you before you say _boo_. And I’ve put up a silencing ward, so right now, nobody outside this room would hear her do it.” Judar blinked at her; the slow, almost lazy cat-blink that meant he’d found something so wonderfully fun, he just _had_ to share. “Princess? We have been _had_. King Abhmad has been very very naughty, and as official High Priest of this mess there is no way I’m letting you trade vows with anyone _that_ incompetent.” He frowned, tapping a finger to pursed lips. “Maybe Sabhmad. Maybe. He’s scared stiff, but he at least has guts. And brains enough to try and be sneaky. Someone even sneakier would be better... we’ll see about that.”

_Not_ marry the king of Balbadd? Kougyoku gulped. She’d been given a mission, she knew her duty....

But Judar was their magi. If he said there might be a better option, then she was sure that would help the Empire.

“We’ve been had?” Ka Kobun flicked his glance between magi and robber, as if he wasn’t sure who was more dangerous. “How? King Abhmad isn’t... er....”

“He’s stupid and arrogant,” Judar waved off civility with a negligent hand. “Good for us, some ways, but we didn’t know _how_ arrogant.” He took a deep breath, as if he were about to call down a tricky bit of lightning to just fry the local mosquitoes bothering her and nothing else. “King Rashid of Balbadd had _three_ sons.”

“He had....” Behind his facepaint, Ka Kobun paled.

Kougyoku felt like paling herself, even as she slid Vinea’s Vessel back into her hair. They needed details, a lot more details - but this changed _everything_. The only way the Kou Empire would have Balbadd under their control was to have _all_ the royal heirs under their rule. If they were missing even one-

_Other nations want an excuse for a war. If they had a third heir, they’d have one_. “Who is he?” Kougyoku asked, trying not to clench her fists. “Where is he?”

“His name is Alibaba Saluja, and he _wasn’t_ the late queen’s son,” Judar answered. “Which is why Abhmad seems to think he could get away without ever mentioning his father’s little... assignation.”

Which was totally, utterly silly, and anyone in the Empire would tell him that, Kougyoku sniffed. Royals had as many wives and concubines as they wanted. Her father certainly had. Balbadd’s insistence on just _one_ was kind of insulting.

“But the really interesting thing is, Sabhmad and General Barkakk went out of their way to _not_ mention him, until I turned up a rumor or two,” the magi went on. “ _They_ think he’s a legal heir. And given how much spine Sabhmad scraped together to _not_ tell me more than he thought he could get away with... he might be a lot more than that.”

Erk. “You mean - Abhmad’s not the eldest son?” Kougyoku stammered.

Cassim snorted.

“That... might not matter, Princess,” Ka Kobun said thoughtfully, squinting into memory.

She was _not_ going to start like a jumpy little girl. She was a princess of the Kou Empire and the Djinn Warrior who was going to take Balbadd. She’d be _calm_. Even if all their plans had gone suddenly tilt. “Ka Kobun?”

“I researched what the Imperial Archives had before we left the Empire, my lady,” her assistant informed her. “Balbadd hasn’t maintained twenty-three generations of unbroken descent just by handing the kingship over to the eldest heir. They’re a _merchant_ kingdom. Where other countries use swords, they use coins. They’d no more hand over rule of Balbadd to someone who can’t trade than the Empire would hand over the whole army to Princess Hakuei....” He trailed off, looking distinctly green.

“But that’s what they did, if Abhmad is the king now,” Kougyoku said slowly. She might not understand everything the Banker was doing for them, but she knew he was the one running trade in Balbadd, not King Abhmad. Or he had been, until Merhdad’s smugglers had started hitting ports like a silent invasion-

Her lips formed a silent _Oh_ , as Judar winked at her. Because maybe she wasn’t as smart as Koumei, but he’d just given her the pieces and it was _scary_.

_There’s another prince of Balbadd. Balbadd fights with trade. And Merhdad’s fighting us - fighting the Banker! - to keep trade going in Balbadd_.

_Alibaba Saluja_ was fighting her for Balbadd.

_And I beat his merchant_. Kougyoku made a fist, struck it against her palm. _No wonder Sinbad disappeared with Merhdad! If he let me take a prince’s right-hand man, Sindria would lose influence with the Salujas._ And _he’d upset all the kings in the Seven Seas Alliance. They’d have to think about how he might treat their ambassadors. And that would be a_ mess.

“Abhmad might not be the legal king after all,” Judar nodded, eyes serious.

And then he shrugged like a dancer, all shoulders and shimmy, as if it weren’t _nearly_ as important as the latest shade of silks in fashion. “That’s the rumor, anyway! Rashid didn’t just recognize the youngest prince, he made him the official heir. Before the kid disappeared three years ago. Now - who knows? But we’re going to have to check it out. Which means getting into the royal records, and that might just be a little tricky.” He glanced at Cassim. “Though, lucky us! It looks like we might have a thief to give us a hand.”

A thief. Kougyoku almost giggled. Of course Judar would get a thief if they needed one. He was so _practical_ that way. It was one of the things she loved about him and Kouha. Need something? Find something useful everyone else turned away from? Pick it up and take it along, and who cared what the gossiping courtiers thought....

Dark eyes were _staring_ at her. Angry; but a familiar kind of angry, so familiar it made her eyes sting with homesick tears. “Do you need to kill something?”

Cassim’s jaw dropped. “What- you-”

“It’s just you look so much like Kouha when he hasn’t had any bandits to kill for a while,” Kougyoku said in a rush. “And I don’t care how many people say he’s crazy, he’s really really sweet and he takes care of all the outcast tribes and he _never_ kills people who don’t deserve it. He’s the best big brother ever!” She reddened, realizing what she’d just said. “I mean, of course Prince Kouen and Prince Koumei are more important, and they’ve been so generous to us letting Judar guide us to Dungeons too, even when Vinea and Leraje wanted _us_ instead of Prince Kouen... but they’re so important they’re hard to know. Kouha spends time with me. He taught me to really fight!”

Cassim was still staring at her. Oh no; she’d done something wrong, said something wrong, years of Ka Kobun helping her and she still couldn’t get being a princess right....

“...Don’t cry?”

Kougyoku tried to hide a sniffle, and grabbed up a hand-towel to hide her face. “Of course I’m not crying!” She scrubbed at her eyes; carefully, formal makeup was horrible to mess up. “I’m just trying to serve the Emperor and be like my brother and get Balbadd into the Empire without anyone getting killed! I know Judar likes war, and that’s okay - but war between people who want to fight! Balbadd’s a city, full of all kinds of children and mothers and old grannies and _they_ shouldn’t be in a war, that’s just too sad....” She sniffled again, and blew her nose, letting him see her tears.

After all, Kouha always said the _best_ way to fight dirty was make it look like you weren’t fighting at all.

* * *

_Oh, she’s good_ , Cassim thought with bemused respect, claiming a chair as he watched the princess put on a case of the quiet sobs that the most hardened street-beggar would applaud. Sure, she was really upset; he’d picked that up in her swift inhalation when she realized praising her brother for being someone who killed _the right people_ maybe wasn’t princess-like. And he’d bet she didn’t want kids and old grannies dying any more than Alibaba would.

But he’d seen his sister Miriam turn on the tears when she really needed someone to underestimate a thin little street kid, and he knew a good act when he saw one.

Miriam. Just the thought of her made him want to burn something down; here he was, still trapped in the palace of Balbadd’s royals, the people who’d walled up the slums and let them die....

Only Kougyoku Ren was a Kou Empire princess, not a Balbadd noble. She might be trying to take over Balbadd now, but she hadn’t had anything to do with the horrible things that had happened back then.

Though Kougyoku might not consider all of that past horrible. Not if she really did think her brother was the best in the world for killing bandits. And _people who deserved it_.

Because the Fog Troupe had a name for people who put their own daughters out on the streets for drugs and drink, and that was _dead scum_.

Cassim hadn’t started that. He hadn’t had the guts. Not after- he was already drenched in blood, who was he to call someone else out as evil?

No. That’d been Hassan, and Zainab, watching his rages whenever they found another slum kid being prostituted on the street. It was one thing for a woman to sell herself; people had to eat, and sometimes no matter how much you wanted work there _wasn’t_ any. But a guy who could work, sending kids out to keep him floating in booze? No. No, that _ate_ at Cassim, drenching his dreams in blood until he’d almost stopped sleeping. He’d pulled back from the Troupe, better that than lash out at his own people-

Zainab and Hassan had dragged him out, put a mug of hot broth in his hands, and bluntly told him they had an idea they had to run past their leader. Because they both knew he didn’t want anyone working for free, but....

Heh. As Zainab had put it, if child-whoring bastards didn’t want to work to stay above the waves, then why should they?

The city guards were happy. The sharks were happy. The kids... well, at least their choices were theirs, now. And Cassim slept a lot better at night. Even if he did grit his teeth and try to bury Miriam’s memory, because what would she think of her murdering big brother? He’d never, ever told her what he’d done, he couldn’t bear to see that horror in her eyes-

Only... Kougyoku _adored_ her big brother. He could see that in how pink eyes had sparkled, how pale yellow silk had shimmered over her bosom as she drew deep breaths to explain how Cassim looked like one of the people she loved most in the world. He could even hear it in what she hadn’t said; not one word to try and paint Kouha as anything _but_ a killer who looked after his people. She was _proud_ of him.

_If I’d told Miriam... if I told Alibaba_....

Solomon, being in the palace was twisting up his brain. Princesses, magi, empires; he had no place here. He just had to string the Kou officials along long enough to get _out_ of here.

_Right. Get out of here. She’s a princess and she’s pretty. She’s still the enemy_.

Though maybe an enemy he could get to pack up and _go away_ , instead of slitting her throat and letting her blood run in the streets. That’s what the Fog Troupe wanted from the Empire: to go away and _leave Balbadd alone_ , so he could wipe out the nobles on his own schedule.

_Killing their princess won’t make them leave us alone_ , Cassim decided. _Getting her into position so she comes out on top when the rest of the Empire’s reeling from Alibaba’s scorched earth - that’ll keep them busier, playing their noble politics with each other instead of us_.

Oh sure, Judar had dropped subtle and not-so-subtle hints about Kougyoku marrying someone _not_ of royal blood. For right now, Cassim was going to ignore that completely. First priority was getting the Empire tied up in as many of Alibaba’s knots as possible, so he had a free hand to wipe out Abhmad.

_Though if they do want to kill the bastard on their way out, more power to them_. “I’m going to keep this short,” Cassim said bluntly, “because if I know Merhdad, you have less time than you think.”

The princess looked up, blinking away a few last tears. “What do you mean? I beat him last night. If he has the honor to show up, I’ll beat him again.”

“Oh, fighting him, sure,” Cassim agreed. “Fighting him, _I_ can beat Merhdad. And I don’t have a Djinn.” _Most of the time. He makes a fight of it. And if he ever got over that flinch at burning people he doesn’t want to kill - it’d be a lot harder_. “So what makes you think he’s going to let the Empire get their way with just a one-on-one fight?”

Kougyoku blinked at him again, as if he’d just declared he had a way to make peaches taste like oranges. “But... it doesn’t matter how he fights. He doesn’t think he can beat the Empire!”

Cassim said nothing. Just stared at her, one brow crooked a little up.

“I mean, we have armies, and Djinn, and a magi....” The princess trailed off, and frowned at Judar. “What could he do?”

“Don’t know.” Judar smirked. “Kind of hope Kouen finds out the hard way.”

Her painted assistant gulped. “Judar!” Kougyoku sputtered.

“Whaaaaat? He has things too easy, sometimes,” Judar shrugged. “The great general of the empire, with all his grand plans. Rolls over every kingdom we’ve hit so far. Boring! Now someone thinks they’ve got a chance to spike his wheels? I want to see it.” He leveled a finger at Cassim. “But you think you can give the princess a shot at coming out on top in whatever mess is going to tangle up the Empire. How?”

“First things first.” Cassim knifed a hand across. “I want you to leave my people alone. We fought our way up to the top of the heap. We earned it. You bring soldiers in to take over Balbadd’s docks from us, there’s going to be war in every alley and under every piling. There’s a lot more ways to lose soldiers than on a _battlefield_.”

Those pretty pink eyes were sharper than they looked; she nodded. “You’re not asking for enough. You think we _won’t_ take Balbadd.” She caught her lip in her teeth. “You believe in him that much?”

Cassim had to catch his breath. _Damn_ her eyes. Believe in Alibaba? That idealistic, stubborn, panicky merchant _prince?_

_The kid who never gives up, and never gives in, and thinks he’s got a plan that’ll hurt them all_ , Cassim thought grimly. _Yeah. I believe in that_.

Kougyoku’s fingers wove together; she probably didn’t intend him to see the white knuckles past her sleeves. “Agreed.”

“Princess,” Ka Kobun started.

“If I marry the king of Balbadd, I’ll ask for the docks for my portion of the government,” Kougyoku stated. “If I don’t, my promise won’t mean anything anyway, because Prince Kouen will conquer Balbadd and it’ll be his problem.” She stood, meeting Cassim’s gaze with dangerously sharp eyes; no longer like roses, but the floating stinging strands of a deadly pink meanie. “But if Judar thinks Abhmad is a bad choice for us _and_ Balbadd... then I need more information.” She held out her hand. “Let’s go get it.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pink meanie is an actual jellyfish in the Gulf of Mexico; they just recently determined it was a new species. It is very, very dangerous to an unwary swimmer, fish, or even other jellyfish, with 70-foot tendrils, sometimes... and very, very _pink._


	13. Red Tape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balbadd may be doomed, but Sabhmad's not about to give up. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Judar indulges in target practice. See, Cassim needs a distraction....

_This is a very scary part of town_.

Sabhmad would be the first to admit that just about any part of town was scary for him. The city, the docks, the palace....

Which in a way let him relax. Sort of. In a knees-to-jelly way. After all, this wasn’t court. The people here weren’t going to want to _talk_ to him.

Stab him, maybe. But probably not talk to him. Much.

And General Barkakk could _probably_ keep anyone from stabbing him. Which meant he’d still have to talk. Eep.

“Keep breathing, my lord,” Barkakk’s voice came through the curtains. “We’re almost there.”

_There_ being a small merchant shop tucked in amongst the dock warehouses that people didn’t talk about. Mostly. Dock-Master Shahidi had eventually talked, after a few subtle reassurances that no, nobody was going to come down on him for doing his duty to execute pirates. Of course not.

Sabhmad swallowed, trying not to think too hard about exactly why Shahidi had needed that reassurance. Abhmad had thought....

_No. Abhmad didn’t_ think. _He just did it, and assumed everything would work the way he wanted_.

The real world didn’t work that way, even for a king. Maybe _especially_ for a king. And it didn’t do any good to say he couldn’t have stopped Abhmad, even though he _really couldn’t_. Not without starting a small civil war, because he definitely wasn’t down as legal heir and Abhmad was the oldest and most of the courtiers were going to follow the money and-

Sabhmad braced his forehead against his fists, and made himself breathe slowly. Think. He had to think. And not panic. Because he was going in to help these people, they could do something together that he couldn’t do on his own, and maybe, just maybe....

_They’re going to be very angry at me_.

Well. All of Balbadd’s merchants had the right to be angry with their royalty. Especially these smugglers. Because he couldn’t be sure, he was guessing at numbers based on what official documents the dock-masters and tax collectors had and he knew those were fudged, but what he’d seen of the Banker’s documents in court and audiences... the numbers just might be tilting Balbadd’s way.

_But the wedding’s in a few days. If we just had more time-!_

The carriage stopped. “We’re here, my lord.”

Teeth almost chattering, Sabhmad got down, following the general as more guards closed in behind. The shop door was iron-bound, as if the occupants expected a battering ram; a shadow at the curtained window meant they’d definitely been seen.

_Keep walking_.

Face grim as granite, General Barkakk opened the door, ready for anything-

Except maybe the redheaded girl in a simple shift, barefoot, blinking at the gems and silks of royalty as if they were exotic birds. “Get the carriage out of sight.” Her voice was low and quiet; not a threat, just plain facts. “There are Kou spies out there we can’t find.”

_In Balbadd?_ Sabhmad almost stammered in disbelief. But the general only nodded, as if this girl had confirmed something he’d already suspected, and took Sabhmad’s arm to make sure he was still between his lord and trouble as they hastened through the shop’s front room into the echoing warehouse behind.

Sabhmad had to halt just inside the doorway in pure amazement. It looked like an archive had exploded. Bales and chests of goods were shoved every which way to clear room for borrowed desks and a swarm of folding tables. Documents and contracts were _everywhere_ , in piles that ranged from one leaf of paper with a slate beside it for notes, to a towering stack of numbered scrolls that had to detail at least five years’ worth of records. Merchants, clerks, and apprentices were at every table, though many of them kept glancing at a pair working their way through one particular stack of agreements, the white-haired one cursing in a way that made his ears burn-

_Ja’far_ , Sabhmad realized, frozen. _And King Sinbad_.

For a moment he wondered where that terrifying redheaded ex-gladiator had gone. Though that wasn’t nearly as important as realizing they’d been right, Merhdad was working with the king of Sindria, and that would change everything....

Off to Sabhmad’s left, someone dropped a scroll. It clattered onto a desk in sudden silence.

A flash of panic - unexpected noise! - made him glance that way, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He should be calm, collected; make the best impression he could on an angry smuggler, because Merhdad had to be _furious_ -

White and red and green; a merchant seaman with a tied-up traveler’s cloak, and an oddly familiar knife in his sash. A _young_ merchant, too young, tired gold eyes wide and searching his. Eyes as gold as the hair; and that was even more familiar than the knife, one rebellious tuft sticking up like Father’s always had.

Somewhere in the roaring distance, Sabhmad felt the general’s fingers clench on his arm; as if Barkakk couldn’t believe what he was seeing was _real_.

Which made perfect sense. Really. How could it be?

Oh this was a nice floor....

* * *

“Get me some water!”

General Barkakk - a little older, a little grayer, but definitely his swordmaster - crouched to pick his viceroy off the floor, watching the room for any sudden moves. “I’d heard rumors, but I didn’t dare hope. It’s been some time... Merhdad.”

Alibaba gulped, even as Morgiana handed him a mug to offer his brother. “Ah. About that....”

“Oh, everyone here knows who Alibaba is by now,” Sinbad’s too-cheerful voice said behind him. “General, I’m disappointed. Rashid told me he had a brave, smart youngster on his hands. He _never_ mentioned sneaky. Or determined. Or borderline crazy.”

“From the man who couldn’t find the border if you painted it on a map.” Papers rustled with Ja’far’s silent footfalls. “General. Is he well?”

“He’ll be _fine_ ,” Alibaba said firmly, helping Sabhmad hold the cup to take a sip. “He’s just not good with... lots of strange people.” Or lots of friendly people. Or just people, in general. Solomon, sometimes he wished Sabhmad had been born a palace clerk. It would have been kinder for everybody.

_It’s not fair. It’s not fair he got left alone with Abhmad, I know what happened. Abhmad snapped his fingers and the courtiers fell in behind him and... Sabhmad’s not good at_ fighting _people. Especially court fighting, where you_ have to talk.

The docks weren’t court, but they were packed with strangers. Escort or no escort, this was the last place he would have expected Sabhmad to find the nerve to come-

_So what is he doing here?_

“You’re alive.” Sabhmad still sounded dazed. “You’re... here, and... you’re a smuggler?”

“I can explain everything,” Alibaba said quickly. Glanced at one extremely annoying King of Sindria. “Except him.”

Sinbad raised an eyebrow.

“Father always said, never try to explain Sinbad,” Sabhmad said faintly. “You’ll only get a headache.”

Ja’far snorted a laugh, as his king _tsk_ ed at the pair of them. “I’m beginning to think I didn’t know Rashid as well as I thought. Or maybe I did. Your father had a subtle, well-hidden, and thoroughly evil sense of humor.” Amber eyes bored into Sabhmad’s brown. “Too bad it skipped his heir.”

Alibaba saw Sabhmad twitch, and silently repeated a few words he’d overheard from Ja’far. _Did you have to bring that up now?_ “We’re trying to save Balbadd,” he said simply. “If you came looking for Merhdad - then I guess things got worse. What’s wrong?”

Sabhmad shivered, trying to get up. “Abhmad - Abhmad is getting m-m-”

“Married,” Alibaba supplied, and glared at the nearest snicker. His brother was having a hard enough time talking in front of strangers, no need to add anything more to that crushing fear. “To the Kou princess. We know. I think I’ve got a way to stall it.”

Sabhmad blinked very rapidly. “You... what?”

“Though the timing could be a little tricky,” Alibaba allowed. If only they had any idea when Aladdin would _wake up_....

_He’s not awake yet_ , Alibaba told himself, seeing his own worry mirrored in the tiny crease between Morgiana’s red brows. _Don’t count on him being awake. You’ve got one trick Kougyoku doesn’t know about. Build on that_.

“The timing?” Sabhmad said faintly. “ _Stall_ the wedding? Have you seen the high priest? He’s-”

“A magi,” Sinbad nodded. “We’ve faced Judar before. I think we can keep him distracted, while your brother gets Kougyoku into position by letting her think she’s going to get to kill him.”

Sabhmad went gray, as General Barkakk turned a flatly murderous look on the room in general. “You’re going to _what?_ ”

“Heh.” Alibaba tried not to look too sheepish, as he scratched the back of his head. “Well... Merhdad’s a criminal in the Empire, and she wants to formally execute me to show all the nations how Imperials handle things in Balbadd. Which means we’ll have all the ambassadors there when we bring out a few... interesting papers.” Which put all kinds of terrified butterflies in his own stomach, but if he panicked Sabhmad would _definitely_ panic, and he needed his brother able to think. “I _think_ we can buy the Kou out. The problem is-”

“They won’t let you,” Sabhmad managed.

“No, no, think,” Alibaba said encouragingly. “The problem is right now we’re all alone against a whole Empire. If we say we’re in trouble, other nations will just say Abhmad made bad deals, too bad, not _their_ problem. So we need to show them the Kou Empire never intended to let us buy our way out. Because if the Kou aren’t going to hold to their own deals, that’s _everybody’s_ problem.”

...He didn’t know what that look in Sabhmad’s eyes was, but it felt perilously full of hope.

_Oh Solomon, don’t look like that, my plans never work without a huge mess_ -

General Barkakk cleared his throat. “Merhdad the smuggler will have a hard time making that case before royal ambassadors.”

“Still trying to work out a few details,” Alibaba admitted. “King Sinbad has offered to present the documents in question, and people might believe him, but- damn it, I wasn’t planning on making a _diplomatic_ argument, I’m-”

_I’m no good at this_.

Which would be a horrible thing to say to Sabhmad, who really _was_ no good at this. Alibaba had some idea of what it was costing his brother just to stand here and not shake in his robes at all these _people_. It was horrible.

_I can talk in front of nobles. I hate it, but I_ can. _So I have to_.

“I wasn’t planning on getting caught,” Alibaba said instead, trying to shrug as if it were no big deal. “So... I’ll have to figure out some way to start talking and keep talking long enough for the Kou to trip over their own feet. It won’t be easy when the ambassadors will know I’m a criminal, but-”

Sabhmad wet his lips. “W-what if you weren’t a criminal?”

Morgiana stilled, intent. Ja’far arched a silent brow. And Sinbad... grinned. “Well, well, well. What do you know that we don’t?”

* * *

_Alibaba managed to sneak around this palace_ , Cassim told himself firmly, clinging to dusty walls as he tried to get a sense of where these servant passages were in relation to where Judar thought the royal library was. Even with the magi’s advice, finding the library was turning out to be a lot of guesswork, based on where Judar hadn’t yet gotten to in the palace and eliminating where Cassim already knew he _wouldn’t_ find the library. Hadn’t been any books in the royal treasury, after all. _If the brat can do it, any good thief can_.

Right. Though this incredibly good thief had already suffered through three wrong turns and two near-misses with palace staff. Finding his way on the streets was one thing. Alibaba had _always_ been the master of tunnels.

_Why am I even doing this? Alibaba’s a prince. He doesn’t need any more proof. And the Kou are the enemy_.

Except that if he _did_ find proof that King Rashid had declared someone who _wasn’t Abhmad_ the heir, the Kou might be all too eager to help him wipe the Saluja family out of existence - either for the insult to their pride or the threat to their imperial agreements. From the look on the princess’ face, he couldn’t be sure which.

More important, they’d be _magical_ help; and if the Fogblades weren’t trustworthy then-

_Then I need Judar_ , Cassim thought grimly. _If the Black Fogblade was meant to use me - what about the others? What if they’re cursed? I’m not a magician. I don’t know how to make sure those things let go of my troupe and never touch them again_.

Help to save his gang and wipe out the nobles. That was worth a lot. As for Alibaba....

_He ran once to save his own neck,_ Cassim shrugged. _I can get him to run again. What’s he got to lose? He’d never deserve the throne anyway. He’s got a Djinn, a magician, and that redheaded menace. He’ll get out, and he’ll get by_.

Time to stop thinking about it. This was going to be the tricky part; getting from the servant passages through the library’s main door. Because there _wasn’t_ a passage into the library. At least, none that he could picture from here.

_But there has to be one_. Behind an alcove wall hanging, Cassim nipped his own lip in frustration. _Alibaba grabs anything with writing on it; always did, still does, that ship’s log is the least of the stuff he’s grabbed. A whole room full of books? The only way they’d pry him out of there is waving a deal under his nose_.

Which meant there _had_ to be another way out. Because no matter how much of an idiot Alibaba might be about people and family, the streets had pounded in some good sense. Try to force Alibaba anywhere he didn’t have at least two escape routes, he was _gone_.

_If there wasn’t a hidden way in there, he’d have_ made _one_.

Too bad Alibaba wasn’t here to follow back through it, this time.

Cassim huffed out a breath, and strode out into the main hall. First rule of getting into places you shouldn’t: walk like you owned the place, and everyone else would think you _did_.

...Everyone but the royals, at least. Though Kougyoku and Judar said they ought to be distracting anyone official right about-

The lightning-boom shivered in his bones. For a moment he almost missed a step; what the hell, he hadn’t felt a storm coming up, what was that-

More booms, only slightly muffled by the walls, with a faint echo of Judar’s laughter.

_Oh. Argh_.

Well. At least everyone else in the palace ought to be very distracted.

* * *

“Not the Kou porcelains!” Ka Kobun lamented, as his princess readied herself for another throw off the balcony.

“Hmph! They’re inferior pieces anyway,” Kougyoku sniffed, doing her best to look as haughty as the Empress herself. The way she’d shoved up her sleeves and loosened up her shoulders for better throwing, he wasn’t buying it.

Standing on his carpet hovering over the palace garden, apparently oblivious to the growing crowd of guards, servants, and scandalized nobles, Judar grinned. Watched the princess’ every feint and twitch, twisting his wand between his fingers as sparks danced on the ruby tip. “Ah, just what I’ve been missing. Target practice!”

* * *

_That is... a_ lot _of books_.

Cassim eased the door shut behind him, even though he was pretty sure no one within streets of the palace would hear anything quieter than a dropped water jar. Judar was _loud_.

But this place, filled with flat books and scrolls and desks for ink and paper... this room was quiet as thief’s footfall.

_I wonder if Alibaba practiced sneaking in here?_

Which was not the point, and he’d better hurry. Hang around too long, and people might get bored even watching lightning flashes.

_If I were a secret royal document, where would I hide?_

Right. He was going to find in minutes something Abhmad presumably hadn’t found in _years_. He didn’t care how lazy that bastard of a king was. Greed had a way of motivating people, and the greed for a whole country had to be enough to move mountains.

_Which might be my first clue_ , Cassim thought, brushing a hank of dark hair back as he tried to see the library with clear eyes. Books bound in gilt and cloth and odd serpentine leather; racks and racks of scrolls, capped in a myriad different colors; writing desks sized for a man, and one or two oddly smaller. _Where wouldn’t a king look?_

Heh. From what he knew about Abhmad, he could think of a dozen things the pig wasn’t interested in. History, trade, odd books of dots and wedge-markings instead of writing-

_Wait_. Cassim picked up one of those scrolls, studying the form of it; blocks of symbols, instead of the flowing lines everyone knew writing was supposed to be. _Wait, I know what this is. Alibaba drew some of these for the Troupe’s kids the last time he was in port. This is Tran. From the Sinbad tales_.

Tran. The language of Dungeons.

_Abhmad thinks he can jerk Judar and Kougyoku around because... he doesn’t know what they are. What a magi can do. What a Dungeon Capturer can do_. Cassim bared his teeth in a vicious smile. _If he had any idea what a Djinn could really do, that fat coward wouldn’t come_ near _her_.

King Rashid had made sure Alibaba learned Tran. If people were hiding documents from Abhmad - a testament they _wanted Alibaba to find_ \- then he knew where to look.

Well. Sort of, anyway. There were a lot more books on Tran than he’d thought. And they were scattered around the room in some order he really didn’t get, outside of the fact that most of them were pretty dusty. Heck, most of the room was dusty, outside of a few volumes that might be love-poetry, various naval logbooks of long-retired ships, and the slimmer, simpler books he’d bet the palace staff snuck out to teach their own kids to read....

_No. No way_.

Cassim eyed the inch-thick codex in his hand, pulled out of the center of that not-at-all-dusty stack. _A Lexicon of Elsewhere_ , the cover read. With more of those dots-and-wedges that looked like they were deliberately matched to the actual, readable words.

_I think I’m in the right place_.

It still took ten agonizing minutes of thunder and crashing crockery. With at least one minute more to find useable ink, a scrap nobody should miss, and the right words to send his lieutenants a message that wouldn’t be obvious.

Blowing on the ink to dry it, Cassim tucked his note into his sash, and what had been one of three hidden documents into the codex. Leaving the other two where they’d been, just in case.

_If Judar’s serious about the Dungeon... some Tran might come in handy_.

Now he just needed to get _almost_ caught.

* * *

“Eyuck.” Staring down at the damning pages Cassim had liberated from the royal library, Kougyoku felt as if she’d swallowed a live fish. Not to slight Vinea, who was a most lovely and majestic watersnake of a Djinn. Far too civilized to swallow a fish she hadn’t envenomated to death first.

Her hairpin cooled some of the headache; a sense of soothing water, the scent of rain on the sea.

_She’s listening_. Kougyoku closed her eyes a moment, comforted. Vinea might not be able to answer her, save in the frail strands of dream, but she always listened.

_Kouha says Leraje is like tasting the edges of salt crystal, and feeling the world’s weight lift off his bones. I wonder what our brothers’ are like?_

But the important thing was the sewn-together pages in her hands, written by a man years dead. Supposedly. “Is this real?”

“Is it real?” Cassim echoed in disbelief; suspicious eyes shooting toward Judar, who was still caressing the walls he’d cast another layer of Sound Magic on, just to be sure any spies were thwarted. “That’s King Rashid’s own-”

“There have been some interesting court scandals in the Kou Empire over the past few decades,” Ka Kobun cut him off. “We’ve run into forged documents before.”

The way his eyes crinkled behind his facepaint, Kougyoku knew some of those documents had been forged _for_ her. Silly Ka Kobun. She’d be all right, he didn’t have to cheat to improve her position.

...Then again, every courtier cheated. Ka Kobun was probably just trying to make sure she wasn’t unarmed.

Judar licked his finger and touched the paper, a few odd sparks of gold dancing around where he touched. “It’s real,” he stated. “At least, the seal and signature matches up with the intent of the writing. By any magic I know, this is King Rashid’s... document.”

And that was a fish squirming in her stomach all over again, because - what else did they call it? They didn’t have anything like this in the Empire. The Emperor declared who his heir would be; nobody would dare insist it had to be written down....

“There’s no way he knows,” Cassim muttered.

_Huh?_

“And how would _you_ know that about a royal prince,” Ka Kobun started.

Judar poked him with his wand, almost hard enough to draw blood. “Did your eyes skip over the _begats_ in there? Alibaba Saluja’s only royal on one side. The other side-” His gaze slid to Cassim. “Let’s just say, our thief knows the prince _very_ well.”

Kougyoku squinted at the both of them. Judar was not saying something. And he was making it very obvious that he was not-saying it. Meaning he and Cassim both knew what he wasn’t saying, and it was important.

_But I trust Judar. And Cassim... Cassim is a lot like Kouha. I can wait_.

“He’s... an idiot,” Cassim sighed. “He’s not stupid, he just - cares too much. When sometimes you can’t do anything. If he knew about this-” The thief grimaced. “He wouldn’t have left Balbadd. No matter how stupid it would have been to stay.”

And she was lost again. “But - why would it have been stupid to stay?” Kougyoku tapped the paper. “Maybe Rashid didn’t say it in court - and I don’t know why he didn’t, in the Empire that’s all you’d need - but if _Alibaba’s_ the legal heir-”

Judal’s eyes cut at her, red as blood. “How many assassins have you dodged?”

She wouldn’t cringe. She _wouldn’t_. Even if half the reason she trusted Ka Kobun so much was he’d taught her all the little tricks courtiers used to take out their opposition; from poisoned words to lethal candy to - well. She didn’t even want to think about the box of jeweled “toys” that had showed up for her once, meant to both insult her as a courtesan’s daughter _and_ poison her or any lovers she might ever take.

Judar had made a lovely bonfire out of it. He’d even melted the jade. It’d been _awesome_.

_If Judar hadn’t been helping us_....

She and Ka Kobun might have made it this far. Maybe. But only because she _was_ just a princess, and not in line to become Empress. Balbadd might be just a little kingdom, but enough stupid courtiers getting together to support the heir they thought would support them, instead of the one their king wanted - she could see it. So easily.

Which led her to the obvious thought, and she scowled at all of them because it seemed so simple. “So why didn’t Abhmad just burn the testament?”

“Are you kidding?” Judar grinned. “That would have been too much like work.”

“Actually, Princess, if I’ve read Balbadd’s laws correctly, at least two copies of the testament had to be shown when Abhmad took the throne,” Ka Kobun frowned. “Something about leaving a permanent record for the royal account books. Merchants.” He rolled his eyes. “Obviously Abhmad had to conceal the contents, or trust that those who read it would ignore them, but the seals might be... tricky to fake.”

“And after that?” Cassim shrugged. “King Rashid probably made a lot more than two copies. Alibaba makes friends in odd places. Wouldn’t surprise me if half a dozen people in this palace shuffled papers around and looked clueless whenever Abhmad went looking for stuff to burn. If he ever bothered.” The look he gave her was dark, molten as the lava Kouen could summon from the very earth. “So what do you plan to do with this one?”

That was a very good question.

_Think. I’ve got to think_.

She got up and paced. Princesses weren’t supposed to pace, she knew that. But no one here cared and it helped. A lot. Up and down and not trying to think too hard, just let the motion tumble thoughts around in her head until things got clearer....

_What should I do? What should the Empire do? What will Cassim do? He’s helping us now, because we want some of the same things, but he wants us_ out _of Balbadd_.

Back and forth. Try to give each decision a direction, and see what her gut felt when she walked that way.

_King Abhmad lied to us_.

That by itself wasn’t enough reason to call the marriage off. Nations lied to each other all the time. The Kou Empire was taking over Balbadd; _of course_ Abhmad was going to lie to them when he thought he could get away with it.

_Viceroy Sabhmad and General Barkakk tried to hide the fact that there was another prince from us_.

That was actually a point in their favor, as far as Kougyoku was concerned. Those two were protecting Balbadd; at no little risk to themselves, if they’d been willing to face down Judar in one of his _curious_ moods. So... a lie, but a reasonable, loyal lie. She liked that. The Emperor would like it too, so long as she made everyone tie up the loose ends.

_Prince Abhmad took the kingdom from his own brother_.

Now that... _that_ was something the Emperor her father would say _deserved careful consideration_. Because it was one thing to lie to family, and quite another to _betray_ them.

_Alibaba Saluja doesn’t know he’s the heir, but he’s fighting for Balbadd anyway. Fighting us_ hard, _with every ally he can get his hands on. Merchants, a Djinn Warrior, a robber chief_ -

Kougyoku stopped in her tracks, and nodded hard. “We keep this copy.”

“My lady?” Ka Kobun asked warily.

She looked directly at Cassim. “If Prince Alibaba is smart enough to figure out he can trust you as an ally, then he’s smart enough for us to deal with. He might not want to deal. We still might have to kill him. We might have to kill the whole royal family.”

Not a flinch. Not so much as a twitch against that idea. If anything, that fire in his eyes said Cassim looked forward to it.

_You know Alibaba. He’s your ally. And you still don’t plan to stop me_.

Which could mean a couple of things. Cassim might not care about Alibaba at all. He might _want_ Alibaba to die. Or he might think, for some weird and unknown reason, that a princess of the Kou could kill the rest of the Salujas and never touch Alibaba.

_King Sinbad stepped in for Merhdad_ , Kougyoku thought. _If Prince Alibaba’s made a deal with the Seven Seas Alliance - if Cassim knows that, he probably thinks I won’t be able to touch the prince after all_.

Which would mean Sinbad wasn’t the only one underestimating the Kou Empire. Well, she could live with that. As long as she carried out her mission. Which... was going to take some planning. Because the mission as it was, wasn’t going to work.

Kougyoku glanced at her magi and assistant. “The emperor sent me to win Balbadd peacefully, to show the rest of the world how strong we are. But if I’m going to be Balbadd’s queen, I have to think of my people. I don’t want them rising in revolt. I don’t want them dying in fights against our soldiers when they _can’t win_.” She took a deep breath; filling her lungs the way her brothers had taught her, in case she needed to shriek orders across the battlefield. Because Alibaba had made Balbadd a battlefield, and now she knew _how_. “They hate Abhmad. They know he doesn’t deserve the throne. If I marry him, I insult my people _and_ the Empire. How could I expect them to live with that knife in their pride?”

That made Cassim’s eyes flare; as if he’d never expected a princess to recognize other people even _had_ pride. Silly. She’d seen Kouha win his outcast people to him, turning their pain and grief into loyalty just by recognizing they _mattered_.

_That’s what Alibaba must have done, to get the merchants behind him_ , Kougyoku decided. _He told them they mattered. That there was a way they could still fight. And they_ are.

“We keep the testament,” Kougyoku stated. “And for now, we let Abhmad _think_ the wedding’s going to happen.”

Judar glanced at Cassim’s almost-hidden curiosity, then grinned at her.

“...I thought you’d want to just go fry him,” Kougyoku muttered, feeling her face heat up.

“After he insulted you like this?” Judar’s fingernail rattled the paper. “Oh, no. Just being fried would be too _easy_.” Red eyes creased in wicked humor. “Let’s take our time.”

* * *

Scowling at the gaping shelves where the Banker’s annoying records should have been, Ithnan took a moment to glance toward the palace, where the rukh was finally calming down after Judar’s... self-indulgent display of how dangerous he could be. Childish, destructive, a waste of power - but at least any Balbadd soldiers who might have had second thoughts about their king selling out their country would now be having third and fourth thoughts, as what was left of the army’s morale crumpled like wet paper.

_Let’s hope he thought it through that much._ _He couldn’t have been making all that noise just for target practice._

Then again, this was Judar. That most impulsive of magi most certainly could have. Especially if the princess had looked lost and winsome at him.

_It’s a dangerous line Arba is treading, allowing our magi to get so close to the girl_. Ithnan frowned. _If we chain her to Abhmad, the despair may finally push Judar into Falling as we wish... but if he keeps chasing after Sinbad_ -

The Al-Thamen magician snorted, and banished that nightmare back to the mists from whence it’d come. He was worried over nothing. Let Judar chase Sinbad as much as he liked. It’d been a long, long time since the king of Sindria had had the joy and wonder that could poison a skilled assassin into turning from the darkness.

_And there’s never been such a bright King Candidate since_ , Ithnan thought. _No; Judar will be ours. It’s only a matter of time_....

Curse it all. Markko’s scroll-organization made no sense whatsoever. Where on earth had the Banker left his account books?

_Because_ of course _the Arms Dealer had to have account books_. Ithnan rolled his eyes. Money again, when magic was the real power. But Arba insisted. Al-Thamen had to make a profit as well as misery; or at least, not lose too much when they invested in wrecking yet another kingdom. Magic Tools needed time and supplies to make them; they couldn’t just force the whole world to mine up jewels and precious metals for the asking.

_Yet_.

Grr. Not on these shelves, either. Ithnan studied the scorch mark on the floor where Amon had given Markko’s body a fatal lesson in what an annoyed Djinn was capable of. _I should scry out Merhdad. It’s always good to be a step ahead of even the smallest enemy._

Except Amon wasn’t a small enemy. His King might only create small and scattered sparks in the rukh, but even with just a breath of magoi to back him, Amon was no foe to treat lightly. He’d been a canny old hermit long before he’d become a Djinn; and if the faint impressions Ithnan read from the rukh here were accurate, Amon was taking full advantage of the heat of Balbadd’s days to spin a gossamer veil of fire about his bearer. Trying to scry on Merhdad might end... badly.

_The Fog Troupe is working with Merhdad. I could scry them indirectly_.... Ithnan scowled. _Only Judar caught the Black Bonds Fogblade, curse him. Who knows what he may have done to the others?_

Damn it all to David’s grave. Why did Judar have to pick _that_ thief to scoop up for his princess? Cassim was dark as a human could get without Falling; it would have taken just a little more jealousy, just a little more hatred of the Saluja kings, just one more soul-crushing _push_ -

Ithnan took an unnecessary breath, and turned his thoughts back to the other two dark Household Vessels. Neither of Cassim’s lieutenants had struck him as King Candidates, but the situation had changed. If they were commanding the Fog Troupe in Cassim’s absence, there should at least be potential there.

_They’re working closely with Merhdad. That will make scrying a bit tricky. Amon should have no knowledge that we escaped Solomon’s prison with Arba, but if Merhdad and Sinbad are cooperating_....

_Sinbad doesn’t know who we are. There’s a limit to how much damage he can do_.

Sinbad, no. Baal, on the other hand....

The Djinn of Wrath and Heroes had been with Sinbad from that very first Dungeon. He would have seen all the dark magic Al-Thamen had used against the Conqueror of the Seven Seas, from Falan’s doll to the enchantment that had nearly cursed Ja’far into a Dark Djinn to the massacre of Partevians that had just not been enough to make Sinbad Fall, damn it all. And while Baal might not have been as grouchily canny with magic as Amon, Ithnan was fairly sure the dragon-warrior had had a reflective streak. Give him enough years, enough dark magic to fight... surely Baal suspected _something_.

It grated on Ithnan that they had no idea how much the Djinn actually _knew_ about the world their Kings inhabited. Or how much they could communicate with their chosen bearers outside a Dungeon.

Sorting yet another scattered pile, Ithnan chuckled darkly. _It’s not as if we can easily experiment_.

After all, it might have taken all seventy-two Djinns to repel their Mediums, but one Djinn versus a mortal magician with even a magi’s level of power....

Well. Arba might risk it. The rest of them had a bit more sense of self-preservation.

_And Arba’s current position in the Empire is too valuable to us to risk. Yet_.

Curse and damn Markko. It was beginning to look as if the account books weren’t even _here-!_

Hand over yet another set of scrolls, Ithnan paused. _What else isn’t here?_

No. No, they couldn’t have. Merhdad was working with Sinbad, after all, and for all the Sindrian king’s resistance to Al-Thamen, the Playboy of the Seven Seas shunned paperwork like the plague.

_But Merhdad is a merchant_ , Ithnan realized. _Isn’t that why we made sure Rashid Saluja never had a chance? And goaded Abhmad into putting the blame for it all on_ -

Ithnan cut that thought off, and shook himself back into reason. No. Surely not. Alibaba Saluja had vanished into the desert night years ago. By now a young prince would be dead and dust, throat slit in some foul back alley. If he were smart enough to still be alive, he’d be smart enough to realize his only chance of surviving Abhmad’s wrath was to stay as far away from Balbadd as possible.

_Merhdad is a canny merchant with a Djinn. That’s trouble enough_. Ithnan rubbed jointed fingers together. _A smuggler, no less. What can a criminal possibly do with Markko’s accounts?_

The magician frowned, turning that casual thought over as if it had sprouted razor spines. What could a smuggler do with the accounts, indeed?

_I don’t know_.

_...Unacceptable_.

They were too close to securing Balbadd; to gaining the Kou Empire the foothold they needed to attack Sindria, Reim, and all of the Seven Seas Alliance. Too close to closing their grip on yet another kingdom to drown in hate and despair.

_Whatever Merhdad might think he could do, I won’t give him time to try_.

He’d have to move fast. First, to cut the ties between Merhdad and the Fog Troupe. There was always the chance Judar might lose interest in Cassim; and if he didn’t, the lieutenants’ own resentment as their leader abandoned them should make them easy prey. Second... Al-Thamen had created the Kou Empire’s means of sending magical messages. Sending one of his own to the delegation would be child’s play. And from what the Dungeon creatures had overheard, Princess Kougyoku had obtained a _promise_ from King Sinbad.

_Time to have her collect_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amon possibly having some kind of measures against scrying is my headcanon based on two things. First, we know Amon was a hermit kind of guy, canon, before he was a Djinn. “Get off my lawn” to annoying spellcasters would be a given. Second - Alibaba seems to be able to pop up unexpectedly even when people really should have been looking for any trace of a Metal Vessel User. (Seriously. Scheherazade missed him for _half a year._ At least!)
> 
> So Ithnan at least worrying about the possibility of getting his mental hands slapped seemed reasonable. 
> 
> I've had this chapter written a while, but haven't gotten farther on 14 yet. Hoping to get back to that once the rough draft of Seeds of Blood is finished. Probably at least a month, darn it....


End file.
